The Adventures of Taco Man and the Robo Inferno
by damn expensive eggs
Summary: In a galaxy far, far away... one boy, Clyde, that's me, will have an unforgettable encounter with another boy, that's Kevin, and embark on a journey of epic proportions. ... Whatever that means. Kevin/Clyde. update for 2013: never writing an epilogue, sorry!
1. Shazam!

**Author's Note: **Well, hell, this is gonna be a long author's note. Hope you don't mind. You can skip it. If you want.  
So, you're probably here for one main reason - and if you're not here for that reason, good for you. Some of you are here because this was on the front page, or I'm on your author alerts and this story came up. **But**, most of you are probably here because of the accompanying art piece that goes with this fic, as drawn by** zeromotion**. However, as this is being written, the art is not posted yet. The link will be on my profile when it is, so don't get confused if it isn't there. This fic was written mostly because of zeromotion, because of her poll asking who we might like to pair Kevin Stoley up with. Even before the poll, **Imajinacion Reinbou** and I discussed pairing him up with Clyde. So, when I brought that to zero's attention, we had this idea to do - oh, my god - a fic/art collab? Hot damn. It was originally going to be, erm, a one-shot. Yeah. I mean, why would we need so many chapters for an obscure pairing? It's just Kevin and Clyde, it doesn't need to be, like, huge. Kevin's such a minor character, and with Clyde? How much could one **possibly** do with these two? All we need is a simple one thousand-word one-shot, right? **HAHAHAHA NO. **I got so carried away with this shit, it's not even funny. I deserve a medal or something, because this story is fifteen chapters. I'm not even **joking**. Fifteen chapters, but the chapters aren't... **that** long. **But, **there is not a chapter less than 1,088 words. So that's **at least** fifteen thousand words, right? **HAHAHAHA NO.** Again. The story, in its entirety, is 28,094 words, excluding the epilogue, which isn't done yet.

I started writing this around... January 4th-6th. I finished it on March 1st. I've never finished anything that fast. I mean, a full story. A chapter, maybe, but not a full story. In fact, I've never **finished** a story in that time. What the hell is it with this pairing that made me write so freakin' much?

Well, first of all, I really wanted to define Kevin as a character - practically invent him, **per se**. I wanted to take his **Star Wars** obsession, **Chinese** heritage, his being prone to **motion sickness** and take it to a whole new level. I may or may not have taken it too far. Despite that this story is in Clyde's point of view, I really hoped I could create a clear image of who Kevin Stoley really, really is.  
Another thing - I know I mentioned earlier that this thing was fifteen chapters, and none of them were less than 1,088 words. Well, yeah, since this was supposed to be a one-shot, the storytelling is ongoing. Meaning, it wasn't **supposed** to be broken up into little pieces like this. So, some chapters are going to stop mid-sentence. It'll end abruptly, kind of like, "what the hell, that's it?" In the case that this happens, I may upload two chapters at a time. So, yeah.

And, congratulations if you've read this far, because I need to take care of some acknowledgements. You don't have to read this, seriously, you can skip ahead **right now**, but I think it's proper that I thank the people who deserve thanks for making this story possible, because seriously? This has got to be the story with the most involvement from people in my outside life. Well, first of all, thanks goes to **zeromotion** for collaborating ideas with me and making awesome art for this story. Then, I need to thank **Imajinacion Reinbou **for just being there for me and discussing this pairing with me the night Fatbeard aired. Thanks to **Zarisla** on deviantART for helping me out with like a million ideas, and pushing me to get this finished. Same thanks goes to **Deejersthecat **on deviantART. As far as real life goes, I really need to thank (even though they won't see this) my friend **Lee **for being awesome and sort of being my Kevin, as well as my friend **Raymond** for being another Kevin in my life, and helping me with some Chinese stuff. Finally, I wanna thank my freaking **dad** for being an amazing geek, being incredibly quotable as far as Kevin's dialogue goes, sitting down and watching a Syfy special with me on how to create your own light saber, and being part of the reason for my, like, existence. So, a round of applause for those people. :)

Anyway, enough chitter-chatter. With that long of an author's note, this story better be damned good. And I hope it is. I hope you enjoy _The Adventures of Taco-Man and the Robo-Inferno. _:D

_  
I guess I'm lonely, whatever that means,  
I get this feeling, like, probably in my heart  
that most of the time, we should never be apart._

_I would give up my sneakers and my polo shirts  
to be your sweetheart. I am sorta nice,  
You could do better, but I'll probably suffice._

_--_**White Bread Boyfriend** by **Lemon Demon**

I. **Shazam!**

If that Taco Bell crunchwrap supreme were any tastier, I think my brains might have exploded. It tastes just like a taco, but it's not a taco, it's, like, this thing where they put all the ingredients of a taco and compress it into a little Mexican hexagon. It's _thick_. It's _juicy_. It's _geometrical._ It's _completely unauthentic Mexican food_ but _filled with Mexican-like wonders._ And it's...

All over my jacket.

Ew.

It's a clump of beef, but it can look like practically anything when it's smeared into red fabric. I'd have eaten it, but I didn't remember the last time I actually washed that jacket. Last Tuesday, maybe, back when I was running through those bushes to get away from that dude that was chasing me and Craig in a pick-up truck because he saw Craig pissing on his lawn, and we ended up running through poison ivy or just some other kind of plant that caused crazy itching for like a jillion days.

Yeah, I think that's when I last washed it.

Suspicious of the meat's condition, I flicked it off my jacket. I hoped the stain wasn't noticeable, but, this is what people expect from me, anyway. There should be, like, a rule that says not to eat Taco Bell while walking to the comic book store, or walking anywhere, for that matter. It's hazardous to the condition of the food - should it be dropped or something, the perfection of it would surely be tainted! I praise the chefs of Taco Bell. You need to be a real artist to get something so perfect. I mean, like, _unf_, oh, my God.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself. This isn't about my Taco Bell crunchwrap supreme (even though it really should be, because, I mean, seriously, have you seen those things?) This is about -

What _was_ this about?

I stopped to think. Where was I going? I took another chunk off my crunchwrap supreme, deep, deep in thought. First, I walked out of Taco Bell, then I took a bus here... and then I got meat on my jacket... and now here I am... and then... oh, yeah.

Comic book store. That was my destination. Needed to get the new issue of _Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy_. I swear, man, I _live _off that comic. I mean, other than Playboy (but that's not really a comic to begin with, so, who am I kidding?). So, yeah, here I was, walking into the comic book store. It's tucked below someone's house. That sounds really weird. But it's kind of, like, this basement-type thing. You walk down some stairs made of brick and there's this tiny little store hidden under some two-family house, and all you see is a bunch of anime posters and a neon sign of Superman's logo. It's kind of a cute place, actually. Nice selection. It smells like paper and ink.

So, I walked in, but then I ended up not really getting much past the welcome mat (with the 'L' scratched off for whatever reason, so it just says "we come") because I was startled by this voice.

"You can't bring food in here."

I looked up. Perhaps the voice came from the ceiling. Nah, that wasn't it - I looked to my right and saw a head, but not, like, a whole head. It was just this ruffle of black hair sitting at the cashier desk or whatever it's called. The voice's face was hidden behind a laptop. A Macbook, to be exact... like, one of those big Macbook Pros with, like, a super HD screen or something. The guy was behind the laptop tapping away on something, and some faint music played from the speakers.

It sounded like _Star Wars_.

So, I'm just standing there, frozen in mid-chew, with a half-eaten crunchwrap supreme in my hand and a cup of Pepsi in the other.

"What?" I asked, as if the statement didn't process correctly the first time. I tried not to open my mouth too much, because I was pretty sure that if I had, more beef would have flown beyond my mouth.

"You can't bring food in here," the guy said again, seeming even more pestered than the first time he had to say it. "Finish it outside, please? Thanks."

I was like, "Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry about that."

Now, I was back where I started. Standing outside of the comic book store with a deliciously geometrical crunchwrap supreme in my hand and a cup of Pepsi in the other. Now, I couldn't _wait_ to get my hands on that _Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy _issue, because, _damn_, in the last issue, Taco-Man was stuck in this time capsule floating through space, right? And then Burrito-Boy was in the present, but in captivity of their arch-nemesis, the Tofu Tyrant. While poor Burrito-Boy was being tortured with assorted health foods by Tofu Tyrant's minions, the Baked Beans, Taco-Man was stuck in this mental state in which he could speak with all the ingredients of a taco, and each ingredient revealed a secret from his past life! His past life, and how he got his powers - he had been working at a Mexican restaurant, under his first and only identity at the time, Julio Espinosa. He was the best cook there, and everyone loved him. The restaurant was even number one on a food critics list in a magazine. Then, an unknown nemesis destroyed the restaurant - everyone evacuated, but Taco-Man was stuck in the kitchen, and the laser beam of the unknown nemesis had got him. He'd been trapped under layers of taco ingredients, and the energy from the laser beam gave him his epic powers - meat vision, super strength, combat skills, and even better cooking skills! The beef was about to tell him who was the one who shot him with the laser beam, _also_, the cheese told him that the food critics list was a fake, and it turns out that his restaurant wasn't actually number one, and it just ended on a cliffhanger!

I needed that issue. If I didn't get it, my head would explode - no. My head would _implode_, put itself _back_ together, implode _again_, and then my entire body would implode, and then it would be like, "Oh, Clyde died? How?" And then it would be all, "Oh, he never got the next issue of Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy, so he imploded twice." And that would be the end of Clyde Donovan.

So, to avoid any spontaneous self-combustion, I stuffed the last of that beautiful crunchwrap supreme into my mouth and washed it down with one last swig of Pepsi. I threw the wrapper and cup into a garbage can conveniently located by the entrance of the store.

And, now, on with the shopping. When I entered again, the guy was still clicking or typing something behind that laptop, with some _Star Wars_-y music playing. I walked past him and browsed the shelves - organized alphabetically by title, under their category of publishing company. At least that's what I think it was organized by. I usually just memorized where the comic I needed was located, and I always knew that Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy were kind of in between Archie comics and some other manga thingies, but when I arrived at that location, I was disappointed to see that Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy weren't even there.

"Um."

The guy behind the counter heard my clueless "um," and took it as an invitation to respond to me. I was the only one in the store, after all (I hate it when that happens), so, maybe he just needed someone to talk to.

"Do you need help finding anything?" he asked.

I kept my eyes on the shelf in front of me. Maybe if I stared at it long enough, the issue would materialize out of nowhere.

"No," I said. "Just looking."

"Okay," he was like, "just ask me if you need anything."

Typical comic book store employee dialogue. I didn't need to respond. I proceeded to stand there, staring at the shelf. I think I really may have been under the belief that the issue would materialize right then and there.

I must have been standing there for quite some time. I could have _at least _pretended like I was texting someone to make it seem like I wasn't such a lonely, lifeless person, but _no_. Just stand there and look like a fat idiot with no reason or motive, Clyde.

"Seriously," the guy spoke louder, "do you need help?"

Well, I thought he was speaking louder for just a moment, but then I realized he was speaking at normal volume - because he had just somehow made his way from the counter to my personal space bubble in the matter of a millisecond.

First, my response was, "_Woah_, when did you get there?" But then, just dangling off the last word, I began another response at the sight of his face, "_Woah_, you're Kevin."

Kevin chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "I get that a lot."

_Shazam! _Guest appearance by Kevin Stoley! The crowd goes wild! _Yeeeeeeah - _okay, yeah, no. I, for one, was not going wild. I was not going _anything_, really. It was just... just. Oh, hey, yeah, Kevin works here.

"Didn't know ya worked here," I said to him.

"Mhm," he made a noise, his eyes wandering to the shelves of figurines across the aisle. They were small, cheap figurines, not worthy enough to be locked behind a glass or anything. He turned around to those shelves and began fiddling with a few _Star Wars_ ones, rearranging them into sorts of action poses. "My dad owns the place, along with his buddy. They're outta town now, 'cause they've got a convention to attend on the East coast. My dad asked me to take care of it while he was gone."

A likely story, Kevin, a likely story.

I hate to say this. I hate using the word, and I tried to avoid situations like this (I _am _Mr. Popular, after all, right? Why else would I spend my perfect Saturday shopping for comics alone?), but... this is awkward. I tried not to say it out loud, but I ended up blurting it anyway.

"This is awkward."

Kevin's figurine-fiddling paused. "It wasn't awkward until you said it was," he claimed, without turning around. "I think the only awkward thing was you standing in the aisle, doing nothing for like three minutes."

"Oh, really?" I throw back at him. "I think - I think - I think the only awkward thing was you... you, uh, telling me I can't eat in here."

He chuckled again, now turning around. His hand hit the action scene he'd just created, knocking three or four figures onto the rough carpet. "Shit," he muttered, picking them up and rearranging them again. When he finished doing that, he decided to finally give me his comeback.

"Yeah," he said. He wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving dark streaks on his thighs. He must have been sweating a lot. "That's because you can't. Especially with the way you eat. You have sauce around your mouth."

My eyebrows rose. "I do?"

"Yeah, it looks like you have a second pair of lips," he said, stepping closer. "... or that you've been making out with a cactus. Right there." He pointed to a spot on the corner of my mouth. Well, that's what it seemed like, I really couldn't see where he was pointing, so I just licked all around my mouth.

"Is it gone?" I asked.

He shook is head. "Right there." He pointed to the spot again. I licked all around, then wiped it with my sleeve.

"How about now?"

"Still there."

"You serious?" I rubbed on my lips really hard - now they were burning against my sleeve. There was no way the sauce couldn't have been gone already. "_Now?_"

Kevin squinted his eyes. His eyes were... distinct (whatever that means). They were slanted, but he didn't look entirely Chinese - I knew he was only half-Chinese, and with the last name 'Stoley,' he must have taken after his dad more. Well, anyway, he was squinting them. He said, "Yeah, it's gone. Kinda."

"_Kinda_?"

"Dude, don't worry about it. Now, are you _sure_ you don't need my help? Because I know this place in and out, and if you don't want my help, that's just fine."

I crossed my arms across my chest. "No, I don't need your help. Like I said, I'm just looking."

"You were looking at the same shelf for quite some time."

"I know. I'm going to, uh, continue looking now. Yeah."


	2. Superman

**A/N: **Ah! The cover for this fic is amazing! I'm sure you all saw it. It's just... ahh... lovelovelove.

Welp, here's chapter 2. Whoo. :D

* * *

II. **Superman**

I pivoted towards the front counter, where loads of funky little trinkets and shiny things were locked below the glass, as well as a locked off shelf behind the counter with statues and other assorted expensive stuff. Under the surface of the counter, there were things like these tiny pins and buttons with logos on them, patches, bumper stickers and belt buckles.

Oh, my God.

Superman belt buckle.

"Yo, Kevin," I was like. I glanced in the direction where I last saw him. I expected to see him there again, rearranging figurines into the action poses of his choice. The dude wasn't there. "Kevin?"

"Yeah?"

Okay, so, the guy managed to make his way from that aisle all the way back to my personal space bubble in less than a second. Again.

Recovering from the mini-heart attack, I spoke. "_How_ did you get there...? Oh, wait, lemme guess, Jedi powers?"

Kevin's expression was really, like, not... changing. Blank. "Jedis can't teleport," he said.

"I knew that," I huffed. "So, uh, yeah, how much for the Superman belt buckle?"

"Eighteen ninety-nine," he said.

"Eighteen ninety-nine? Seriously, for that thing?" It was a simple belt buckle, just plain old Superman's logo, the yellow triangle with a red 'S' squished in the middle. Simple, it may have been, but I wanted it. I _wanted_ it.

"Yeah, well. It's not like a cheap knock-off or anything. What'd you expect?" Kevin was acting kind of fresh, I think. He walked around the counter and pulled this ring of several keys out of nowhere (his pocket, I believe, but it looked more like nowhere). He stuck one key into the... key-thingy... whatever it's called... and slid the glass pane aside. He set the belt buckle on the surface, and I picked it up to get a good look at the thing.

"It's badass," I said.

"Mhm," he agreed.

"What do you mean 'mhm?'" I demanded; I had to be sure I wanted this thing (and I was pretty sure I did at the time), especially if I'm sacrificing the rest of my cash for something that wasn't Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy.

"'Mhm,' as in, in my unprofessional opinion, I think a Batman or Punisher belt buckle would look much more badass than the alien boy scout. Perhaps even a Spider-Man one would. And a Mysterion belt buckle, if that existed." He shrugged. "But, hey, do what you want."

Okay, did he want my money or _not_? "I'll take it." I succumbed to my own desire (whatever that means) and had him ring it up, anyway. _He_ was the space-cadet geek, anyway, I don't see what he would have against Superman -

"Your total's twenty-fifty."

Twenty-fifty. That's twenty dollars and fifty cents I could have spent on a bunch of eighty-nine-cent burritos at Taco Bell (and I don't even know how many, because I'm not good at math, but I bet it's a lot), but I blew it on a Superman belt buckle that I wasn't even sure I wanted. I think it was just because I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, and full-handed, for that matter.

I dug through my pockets. A few clods of lint made it onto the counter, as well as a crumb from a potato chip (I think) and a lug nut (I don't even know). Finally, I was able to retrieve a twenty-dollar bill of quite the crappy quality, and two quarters that weren't as shiny as they should have been.

"Exact change," Kevin said. "Best thing that's happened to me all week."

He wrapped the belt buckle in this flimsy white tissue paper, as if it were a gift, and put in this bag, which was also flimsy.

"Thanks," he was like.

"Yeah, sure." I took the bag from the counter and went straight into it. I took out the buckle and went straight to attach it to my belt, and, well, I didn't even know how to put it on.

"Don't put that on by the door where everyone can see you," Kevin said, opening up his laptop again. "It'd look weird from a distance."

"Aw, come on, who's gonna see? This place is tucked four feet below the block." I kept trying to snap the thing onto my belt, but it really wasn't working. Maybe it's supposed to come with some sort of key, or, like, some other sort of... special thing... I have no idea.

Kevin put his hands down on the counter. "Just -" He cut himself off. "Just - Just, ah, just put it on in the back or something."

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. "Fine." Well, moving to the back of the store didn't make the application of a belt buckle any easier. That thing didn't come with any _instructions,_ and honestly, Kevin should have warned me of the difficulties of applying a belt buckle, because it was really pissing me off.

If Craig were here, he'd say something like, "Why did you buy a belt buckle if you didn't know how to put it on?" And I'd probably say something like, "Hey, you, shut up," or something lame like that, and he'd flip me off and walk away.

And there was no _time_ to imagine Craig in this scenario, because I think I was about to pop a vein trying to attach the damned buckle.

And how embarrassing would it have been if I had to ask Kevin to help me? He'd think that I'd know how to put one on, wouldn't he? I just _spent_ twenty bucks on it, and I can't even put it on; that's kind of like buying a drill with, like, nothing to drill (my mom always told me I was good with similes).

I was just about to find out how embarrassing it would have been if I had to ask Kevin for help.

"Yo, Kevin," I was like, again, "I can't put this thing on."

He stabbed the space bar on his laptop with his finger, bringing the music to a stop. "You can't put on a belt buckle?"

"Yeah," I said. I dangled the buckle between two fingers in front of my face, showing it off. "Help me out, would ya?"

He got up from his little wooden stool, looking kinda reluctant (whatever that means) and met me in the back of the store.

"Gimme the thing."

I put it in his hands; carefully, though, for it was sacred.

"Careful not to get fingerprints on the colored parts," I warned. "Keep it shiny-lookin'."

Kevin didn't say anything as he bent down on both knees and began to undo my belt.

Okay, okay, okay, my conscience is telling me to grow up and not make any jokes about what he looks like he's doing, and I have to follow it this time. It's my fault I'm a fat idiot who doesn't know how to apply a belt buckle, so, just leave it alone, Clyde, just leave it alone.

"Here, lemme show you how to do it," he began, "just in case you buy any more cheesy superhero belt buckles. Usually, you're supposed to take off the belt completely..." He undid the belt, but didn't pull the whole thing off of its loops. "Just watch." He started doing this thing, like, he removed these clasps, and I didn't even know those existed. "You snap these off, and you just put the metal loop of the buckle right through the part you just, ah, snapped off..." He performed the steps as he recited them. "Then when you've got the whole thing through, just snap it back." _Click_. "Now you've got yourself a trusty little utility belt. Congratulations. That's how you do it."

"I knew that."

"Yeah, right."

I smiled, and admired the shiny buckle that now enhanced my outfit. Kevin stood up, looking down at the buckle, too.

"It's not that bad-looking on you," he admitted.

Looking back up at his face, I noticed that standing up straight, he had to be about 5"9 or 5"10. I'm like, 5"6 or something (but my mom tells me I'm not done growing, but I'm, like, sixteen already, so I don't even know).

"Thanks," I said. My eyes wandered, and I noticed (well, it was there before, but I've got the attention span of a rodent, so it didn't really process until now) there was another glass case in the back of the store, with even bigger things than there were behind the counter. There were these statues of some big-boobed anime chicks, labeled with this big numbers like "$500" and stuff like that - there were even a few Star Wars ones, like this one of Darth Vader (at least that's what I think his name was) slashing through the air with a red light saber. It looked expensive, detailed.

My mouth was wide open, gawking like a kid in a candy store (or me in Casa Bonita). I stepped closer to get a closer look at the statues. Some of them had the closest detail, I had no idea who would have the patience to really create something, so, just -

"You like those?" Kevin was all like.

I looked back at him. "Yeah, they're pretty cool." I poked my finger on the glass, pointing to one that wasn't labeled with a price. But I imagined the number would be huge. "How much is that one?"

"You can't pay me in potato chip crumbs, for one thing," Kevin said. "And that one... actually, it's not for sale. Just a display. My dad designed it."

"Your _dad_ designed that?"

"Well, yeah." Kevin seemed bored of the subject. He began to scratch the back of his head, shrugging. "I told you, he owns the place. He's in the comic industry. He designs a few statues a year and colors for these few Dark Horse comics."

"Seriously? That's way better than having a dad who owns a shoe store. And, like, more than half of the shoes are stupid ladies' shoes, and the dude shoes are, like, totally grandpa slippers." I stuck my hands in my pockets and kinda pouted. "I wish I had your dad."

"Lots of people do," Kevin laughed. "But he's just like any other dad. Busy guy."

"So, what, do you, like, live here? When your dad dies, will the store be passed down to you or something? Don't you wish you had all of this stuff?"

Kevin just proceeded to chuckle. "We live upstairs from here. So, basically, you could say I do live here. And I... I like to think I own all this stuff. It's just that people can buy it from me whenever they want. But, up in my room, I have some of my own collectibles. And some other stuff in my dad's studio. You could check it out sometime."

So, now the guy's being nice to me, when before, he was all, "Ew, Superman belt buckle, get out of my face, stop staring at the shelf, nyeh, nyeh, nyeh." Well, kind of. You get the idea.

"Uh, well, what time is it?" I asked. I lost track a while ago. I think I lost track yesterday.

Kevin looked at his invisible watch. When he realized said invisible watch was invisible, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. I think it was an iPhone, or some other member of the fancy-pants touch-screen phone family. "It's 6:35. I should have kicked you out five minutes ago."

Not surprising. I did wake up at, like, three in the afternoon. I should set my clocks earlier; I'm always late.

"Six thirty-five," I repeated. "My mom doesn't want me home until seven-thirty or so. I could check out your stuff for like, a few minutes, I guess." I, too, looked at my invisible watch, just to make sure we had the same time. "Five minutes," I said. "Five."

"Five." Kevin smiled. "Come on up."


	3. Kaleidoscope

**A/N**: Hey, guys. :3 Thanks so much for all your feedback lately, but I'm afraid that I haven't been able to reply to anything because of an apparent fanfiction glitch. I haven't been getting any e-mail notifications of reviews, alerts, or faves, and if I do, they come hours or even days late. I'm also getting duplicate e-mails. The only reason I know who's been faving, alerting and reviewing is because I checked the story stats right here on fanfiction, which is pretty annoying, actually. It's much more convenient to do that via e-mail. D: Well, here's my big thank you, because I really, really appreciate everything.

I wanted to give myself a minimum of two days between chapter updates, but I really wanted to have this up... I'm really tempted to put up the whole story to get it over with. XD But I think I can wait until the end, and you can, too. And hey, it's tomorrow in Germany. So it's almost a two day wait. I might not update chapter 4 this quickly though. I dunno.

Also, yeah. Here's some awkward parent encounters. Kevin's mom is cute, I like her. Enjoy!

* * *

III. **Kaleidoscope**

While Kevin was heaving down the metal gates for closing, I was already on his stoop, drumming a beat on my legs with my palms. It was particularly warm, but I still wore layers (didn't quite do justice for my weight, but what can you do?).

"How are you so sure that's my house?" Kevin said, while locking up the gates. "There's one on the other side."

"I don't!" I shouted down. "I guessed."

"Lucky guess," Kevin was like, jogging up the stairs. "It is my house."

"Well, yeah, you know. I know things," I said coolly. I hopped up to my feet and followed Kevin into his home (and the door seemed to magically open, I think).

It smelled just like the comic book store; paper and ink! But it definitely didn't look like a comic book store - it was very... clean. Well-decorated, well-lit, and it made me want to nap, kind of. The floors were glossy wood and, as soon as you entered the house, you came to a den or a living room-type thing with a huge plant and a bookcase. There was some of this Chinese décor that I wouldn't even know how to describe. There were these panels that seemed to act as the walls of the living room, wooden and intricate in design.

Whatever that means.

"My mom's home," Kevin said. Before I could even wonder why he was telling me this, he started to go on in this gibberish.

"What?" I asked. He was kind of shouting it now, not angrily, but just loudly. I'm not surprised how long it took for me to realize that he was speaking in Chinese.

He paused, waiting for a response, I suppose. The house was silent for a few seconds, but then a woman's voice pierced through the air from the other side of the house, also, in Chinese.

Kevin shouted a short word, paused again, and said another sentence in which I heard my name. I don't really know what my name is supposed to sound like in Chinese, but it sounded sort of like "kah-lie-deh," except more condensed together, to sound like an actual word. It sounded sort of like the beginning of "kaleidoscope."

Clyde-o-scope. That'd be a good nickname, I think.

"My mom's in the kitchen." Kevin lead me through a short hallway, and eventually, we ended up in a kitchen (the layout of this house is weird, I think). His mom was short, and had a short, dark, bob haircut. She was standing at the stove. She turned around with a toothy smile.

"Clyde! Hello, hello! It's very nice to meet you. I'm Mei." She took my hand and shook it. And that doesn't mean, like, she held out her hand and let me shake it; she stole my hand from its default position and shook it.

"Hi, Mei," I said casually, "Nice to meet you, too."

"Yes, yes!" She stopped the shaking and continued smiling. She clasped her hands together happily as she spoke. "I am, ah, making some food right now. It's traditional Chinese, would you like some?"

I looked at Kevin.

"Tell her you want some," he whispered.

There was a clock on the wall. I always had trouble reading analog clocks - it seemed that it took me time to figure out what the time was. It was ticking at all times, so the time would always change, and I can't ever really tell which hand is the shorter one. I wanted to assume that five minutes hadn't yet passed, and one minute was six-hundred seconds instead of sixty.

"Sure, I'd like some," I said. I probably would have said yes, anyway, and I'm not even hungry (but there's always room for oriental food, yeah?).

"Yes, okay, good! Very nice meeting you, Clyde." The way she pronounces my name in English, now, sounds kind of like "collide," which I also think might be a good nickname, but maybe not. She's so smiley. She's a cute, mousey woman. She turned to Kevin again, having to stretch her neck slightly to look him in the eyes; she was way shorter than me.

Mei began to speak in Chinese again. I heard my name, "kah-lie-deh," again. I wish I could speak Chinese. Or, like, every language. That would be cool. Seriously cool.

Kevin and Mei nodded at each other, and Kevin nudged my shoulder. "Follow me."

Simple directions, I supposed. On the way out of the kitchen, I saw my own reflection in the refrigerator. Yeah, the refrigerator. It was really silver, like a mirror, and it was super huge too. Like, you could fit people in there ("You're the only one who would notice that," Craig would say).

The hallway ended shortly after the kitchen, and we came to this little wannabe staircase on the left side of the hall. The house didn't seem quite tall enough for a full two or three stories, anyhow. The next arrangement of rooms were elevated off the first floor by only four carpeted steps, really white and really unstained. Like his carpet was made of cotton or snow or something like that. I wish I didn't have to step on it with my dirty sneakers—

"Hey, Kevin, your refrigerator's super shiny," I said. Whatever compelled me to say that must have been the second-fattest kid in me coming out.

"Yeah. It's new," he said, while walking in front of me. "My dad doesn't really like it when I go into his studio with other people," Kevin said. "So, don't touch anything."

Not that I had planned touching anything, but I appreciated the warning. He opened the door slowly, and it squeaked, kinda. He flicked on the light.

The smell of paper and ink strengthened to, like, the max. The room was completely cluttered, with boxes that were ripped and torn at the sides, drawings spilling out from the edges. There was a giant desk, complete with a giant lamp and giant paper with a giant drawing of a woman on it. A sexy woman, at that, with different angles and details and crap like that.

"It's not usually this cluttered," Kevin said. "He took some of his things with him."

"Uh." My eyes widened a bit. "Can't imagine how cluttered it was before." I squinted at the room. The walls were lined with shelves of statues, big ones and small ones, some still in their boxes - most of which were characters I couldn't even identify. "Did your dad design, like, all of these?"

"Some of them, yeah," Kevin answered. "He did that big one over there." He pointed to a statue, more than a foot tall, of a vicious, muscular-looking character, I guess. He was muscular, for sure, definitely not, well, fat or anything. He was crouching, with these insane teeth bared - I couldn't remember the name of the character. I knew I'd seen him before, in a movie, in a video game, something. I suck at remembering these things! I was ashamed, to say the least.

"I forget that guy's name," I said, before praising anything about the statue.

"Venom. Eddie Brock. Super-villain, anti-hero," Kevin said, like he'd rehearsed it. "You should know him. He was in _Spider-Man III_... which sucked, by the way."

I frowned. "I liked that movie..."

Kevin turned to me. "Huh. Let me ask you something, Clyde."

"Shoot," I was like.

"What do you think of the movie, _Dude, Where's My Car_?"

I brightened, I think. I couldn't see myself, but I bet I looked stupid and smiley. "I love that movie!" I exclaimed, "It's, like, the funniest movie ever. Ooh! Do you remember, like, that one scene, where Jesse was all like—"

"Wait, wait, wait. Stop right there." Kevin halted me. Way to throw off my groove, really. "That explains it."

"Explains what?" I asked.

"Never mind." He shook his head, and began to make a turn for the doorway. "Well, anyway, I'll show you my room real quick."

"But I'm not done looking around here," I said as I was stepping forward, deeper into the cluttered wonders of the room. "This room is cool."

"First of all, you should even be in here in the first place. It's just my dad's work room. Second of all, my room is cooler. I can assure you that."

"Okay, okay, okay," I gave in.


	4. Zoologist

**A/N**: Hey, guys. kdhflsglkj WELL WELL WELL. It's Wednesday (here), everyone! It's the Wednesday we have been waiting for since, what, November? DSJIFLHSKKLD New. Episode. I'm so stoked like you don't even understand. I want to know so bad who's gonna be diagnosed as a sex addict. Throwing the obvious Kenny aside, who do you think it's gonna be? And I so hope one of them is Craig. :| And I really don't want to be disappointed with this. Like hell they're gonna throw in a bunch of random kids we don't know and make them sex addicts, like throwing their own OCs in their show. That'd make me sad. XD

In this chapter, you're actually going to notice some of the things that were included in zeromotion's picture. And god, I'm just realizing how, like... slow and fast these chapters are. They do things slowly but it feels faster because each chapter may as well be nothing but a drabble. Because it took so long to write, I feel like every step they take, takes up like two hours. :| Read slow, kids. Or read it twice. Make it feel longer (that's what she said).  
This was the first segment of the story I wrote where I paid attention to chapter breaks, even though it's still a cliffhanger. XD

Thanks for all your feedback! Enjoy this one, guys. :)

* * *

IV. **Zoologist**

This house was, like, super weird. Because, whatever room he was about to lead me into, I had no idea what space there could have been left in the house for there to be another room. Whatever happened to simple upstairs and downstairs, like everyone else? I don't know. Kevin's house, so far, was unique, whatever that means.

"Welcome to my humble home," Kevin said, as he swung the door open.

Let me tell you something, right now. Let me tell you this, my friends, Kevin's bedroom… Kevin's holy bedroom was built, floor to ceiling, of complete and utter kick-ass. I do believe that if it had been any more kick-ass than it already was, which probably isn't even possible, my body would have, like, disintegrated from sheer amazement. And then, it would have been like, "Oh, Clyde died? How?" And then, it would be all, "Oh, he walked into Kevin's bedroom and was so amazed that he disintegrated, right there, on the very carpet that caused him to disintegrate."

And that would be the second end of Clyde Donovan.

Another thing I noticed, besides the gut-busting displays, was that there were diet Pepsi cans. Everywhere. Not just, like, a few diet Pepsi cans here and there, like oh, maybe he drank like two and forgot to throw them out, _no_. Every corner you looked, there was an empty (as far as I knew, since some of them were crushed) diet Pepsi can. On his desk, there were like four, on his dresser, there were like six, and on his nightstand, there were like three - but none of them were on the floor. His room was very clean, besides the diet Pepsi cans, which could have gone unnoticed. Maybe he liked it as a type of decoration.

Some people have quirky things in their rooms. Like they might have the head of a deer mounded above their bed, or a basketball hoop, and hell, Craig has a shopping cart in his room that he jacked from the parking lot of the supermarket on King avenue. What Kevin had, besides his geek collections and large amount of diet Pepsi cans, was an orange traffic cone beneath his window. I wasn't even going to ask.

"I don't know about you, but I kinda like it," Kevin said, dropping his laptop bag carelessly onto the floor.

"You _kinda_ like it?" I was like, "Dude. This room, is like… oh, my God. How do you sleep in it? Do you stay up at night thinking about how amazing your room is? How do you _stop_ looking at it?"

Kevin chuckled. "You're easily impressed, you know that?"

I never really thought about that before. "Whatever."

I walked deeper into the room, which was actually decently sized. Even though its size was nothing more than decent, it was still, well, _awesome._ The walls were blue, I _think._ There were an awful lot of posters on the walls, so, I wasn't really sure of the actual color of the walls. And, by posters, I don't mean those crinkly thingies you get for eight dollars at the mall, I'm talking about these totally high-definition silk screen posters that hung like royal scrolls.

And they weren't just Star Wars posters, there were like, all these other things, like some Spider-Man ones, and these anime ones, and… and, I don't even know, dude. But, like, there weren't just posters, either, there were also these glass shelves, _glass_, with action figures on them. It was like he _lived_ in the comic book store, which he pretty much _did_, but, you know what I mean.

And his bed was nice, too. It was pretty big, and when I sat on it, like, oh, my _God. _I've never felt a cloud, but I bet if I did, I could say that it'd feel just like this bed. Funny thing, though, the bedding wasn't Star Wars, like I would have guessed.

It was zebra-print.

"What, no Star Wars bedspread?" I asked.

"Not _everything_ can be Star Wars," Kevin said. "I like zebras, too."

"Do you think - do you think, do you think that… zebras are white with black stripes, or black with white stripes?" I asked him. I never knew the answer to this question. People say they're white with black stripes because their stomachs are completely white, but then again, their noses are completely black. "Isn't that something else that keeps you up at night, besides your kick-ass room?"

"I think they're white with black stripes," he answered immediately. "I mean, have you seen their stomachs?"

"But, their noses are black," I said matter-of-factly, holding up one finger.

"Their noses aren't striped, though," Kevin argued. "The black stripes emerge _from_ the zebra's white stomach, therefore, their base hair color is white. That is what I think, at least. Zoologists have yet to determine what exactly is the genetic formula that creates those distinct stripes. Zebras are cool with it, though, they can be camouflaged from predators with those stripes, so, it really isn't our place to question whether or not they are black with white stripes, or white with black stripes, as long as they aren't endangered."

I crossed my arms. "Jeez, it was just a question."

"And I answered you!" Kevin replied, half-jokingly, throwing his arms in the air. "Don't ask a question if you don't want an answer."

I stood up (and I really didn't want to, because, damn, that bed was nice). "Why are you flipping out on me now?" I demanded.

"I'm _not_ flipping out on you, I was _just saying_—"

There was a knock on the door.

The door creaked open, and Mei was poking her head through, holding two small bowls in her hands.

"Dinner time," she sang, and handed me and Kevin one bowl each.

I stared into the bowl. I'm not gonna lie, it looked really gross. Like, super duper gross, but slightly inviting. If you know what I mean, because I don't.

Mei pranced out of the room, and closed the door behind her.

Kevin looked at me. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "Just try it."

I shrugged, and peered back into the bowl. Maybe if I stared at it long enough, it would eat itself.

Well, I know I wanted to try it. I was all for trying out new things, you know? But, this thing, is like… it looks super greasy, and noodly and full of shapes I never even knew food could come in. After this, I knew I'd be spending quite some time in the bathroom. I dipped the fork in, picked up a few thingies, and like pulling off a band-aid, I quickly shoved it into my mouth, and chewed.

"So?" Kevin asked. He was digging into his as easy as eating cereal. "How d'you like it?"

I chewed, and tried to taste it. Well, I _tasted_ it, I was just having trouble figuring out what it tasted _like_. It needed to _process_, if you know what I'm saying. I mean, did you know that it could take over a _year_ for a fast food franchise to think of a food, taste test it and release it? I mean, it could be a _long_ time before I decide whether not this is—

Oh, my God, this is amazing.

I took another fork full of noodles and shapes and shoved it back into my mouth eagerly. _Unf_, Kevin gets a cool dad, kick-ass room _and _awesome food? Why didn't I hang out with this kid before?

"Oh, my God. Sweet justice…" I mutter, inhaling these noodles and shapes and things. They were _so. Good._

I'm sorry, tacos. I really, really am. I'm sorry, crunchwrap supremes. I'm sorry, cheese roll-ups. I'm sorry, burritos. I'm sorry, fajitas. I still love you, with all my little non-Mexican heart…

"What is this _made_ of?" I asked him. "What _is_ this? This is the food of _gods…_"

"Um." Kevin swallowed. "You, ah, you don't really wanna know what it's made of."

Oh. It's one of _those_ things. "You can tell me what it's made of," I told him. "It's not gonna make it taste any less good."

"Oh, trust me, it can do that," he warned, taking another bite. "I can tell you what it is… in, er, Chinese."

"Chinese, oho." I took another bite, but not too much, and not too fast, because I want to appreciate this, and not run out of food too quickly… "Try me."

"_Ju-yee-gha_," he said.

"You know something, Kevin," I said, pointing my fork at him. My mouth was still kinda full. "I'm gonna tell you something, and I don't want it to change anything between us."

"Lay it on me," he's like.

"I don't frickin' speak Chinese."

With his fork still stuck in his mouth, he eyed me weirdly. And I'm pretty sure 'weirdly' is a word, okay?

"That's why I told you what it was in Chinese, smartass," he said. And I kind of decided that that was not on the polite side, I think.

"Tell me in English, please?" I asked, being sure to stay on the polite side so that _I _could be the nice one here.

"You really wanna know?" He raises his eyebrows a bit. That made me notice, kinda, that his eyebrows were really, really thin. Girly, almost. I mean, I don't think I've really gotten close enough to a girl's face (without her shooing me away) to notice the details of her eyebrows. But, I bet they might look like Kevin's. It's like he _does_ them or something. He didn't even have excess hair in the middle! Every day I looked in the mirror and thanked the Lord that I didn't have a unibrow. Cartman kinda has one. He always looks like he's about to kick someone's ass, anyway.

After spending what seemed like much too much time contemplating eyebrows, I confirmed that, _yes, _I really _did _want to know what exactly I was eating.

"Are you _sure_?"

Kevin was aggravating me now, I think, and I don't even know what that word means.

"_Yes! _Holy freakin' Jesus..."

"Okay. Okay." He set down his bowl gently, while I continued to eat whatever it was I was eating. "I'm gonna tell you." He swallowed, like this was the most important thing in the world he had to tell me. Holy crap, is it made of _people?_ God, I hope not. Who knew people could taste so good? Ugh, I'm twisted.

Dammit, Clyde, focus.

"It's pig ears."

I choked.


	5. Who

**A/N**: So, new episode, everyone? How'd you like it? XD

AAAAND here's two chapters for you... Because I'm getting sick of leaving you guys with these little drabblets of nothing. I'll upload chapter 6 in a couple of hours or so.

WHEE IT'S SO PRETTY OUTSIDE.

* * *

V. **Who**

Choking on pig ears was not a fun experience. Imagine eating, like, the greatest thing on the planet, and having it nearly kill you. That's like the equivalent of a giant taco coming and beating me in my sleep. Yeah, like, something you love turning against you. And I had just encountered it! That's like, killing on the first date.

I stopped making sense five sentences ago. Perhaps longer than that. The point is, Kevin pretty much saved my life. I was trying to enjoy wonderful pig ears, when suddenly the pig ears' identity was revealed, it decided to make a run for it. Down my throat. I was coughing, and Kevin was all, "Oh, shit!" And I was all, "_Guuaaaggghhh_," and it was not a pretty sight. And I don't think Kevin really knew how to perform the Heimlich maneuver, so he kind of just slapped my back really hard like he was burping a baby or something, and then he _tried_ to perform the Heimlich maneuver on me, which was really uncomfortable, but I was like choking so none of it could really be very comfortable, and then _BAM_ that pig ear just went flying out of my throat and onto Princess Leia's (I only knew her name because she was kinda hot, from, like, the neck down) face, which was like all the way on the wall, so I think I should get an award for launching food at that distance, really.

And then I was on the floor, coughing up some weird goopy fluids onto Kevin's carpet, and I didn't really think he minded, because he was rubbing my back and everything all nice-like. And I thought I really didn't deserve to be, you know, saved, since I think I've kinda been an awkward asshole to him, but I don't know. I appreciated it.

"I'll get some water," he said, sprinting away super fast.

He came back super fast, too, with a fresh, cold bottle of water in his hand. He uncapped the thing and jabbed the front of it right into my mouth like he was feeding a baby.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you what it was," he muttered, letting go of the bottle so that I could finally handle it.

I stopped drinking, and the bottle was less than half full, now. Water was dribbling down my chin, but the point was, I could breathe again - my throat was cleared and refreshed.

And Kevin was standing in front of me, still, looking really serious - but when he saw that I was breathing again, his lips curved into this little smile.

"You alright?" he asked.

I smiled back. "Yeah, I'm good," I said. "Thanks. Really."

"No problem," he replied, "I thought I lost you there."

"Well, I'm alive," I said, because you know, that probably made things better, but not really. "If that had happened around Craig or Token, they'd probably just be all like, 'Oh, L-O-L, Clyde is choking, let's take a video on our cell phones and not help him because no one ever dies in South Park,' and then Tweek woulda been like, 'Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, call 911,' but then he'd never dial the number right because he'd be shaking so bad. And then I'd probably die," I told him.

Kevin laughed, kinda. "Well, then, it's a damn good thing you choked around me."

"Yeah. Sorry about Ms. Cinnamon Buns over there," I said, pointing to the poster where the piece of food had landed on.

"Oh, don't worry about it, that poster looked like it was missing something, anyway." He walked towards the poster. "You got it right on her nose," he said. "That's worth ten points. Good job."

He said that in the most serious tone, I couldn't help but laugh, even though it hurt a little bit.

He laughed with me. I really liked his laugh, honestly. It was real, if you know what I'm saying - like, I've been hanging out with this guy for a couple of hours, maybe less, and you just know when his laugh is real. Not fake. Fake is lame.

Trailing off the laughter, I piped up with something. And I hoped it was on the polite side. "Ah, Kevin, you don't mind if I, ah... throw out the rest of the food?"

Kevin was still kind of giggling. Yeah, giggling. "By all means."

"It was still, like, total deliciousness," I said as I picked up the bowl and scoured the room for a garbage can. There was one against the wall, somewhere under the few Star Wars posters. It was actually a really cool garbage can, I think. It was decorated with all these buttons and lenses, so it kinda matched Kevin's room. Except, I couldn't open the damned thing.

First, I kneeled down to look really closely at the trash can, and ran my hand across the top of it to find an opening of some kind - when that seemed to be a failure, I stood up again to get a faraway view of it. Some things at the bottom looked like pedals, but when I pressed down on them with my socked foot, nothing opened. So, I started kicking it.

Kevin was to my left, going through boxes, I think. He peeked over at what I was doing and spoke. "Dude, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to open this trash can."

Kevin crossed his arms. "That's not a trash can, Clyde," he said. "That's R2D2."

I stopped kicking it. I looked at the sides of it. Oh. It had _arms_.

"I knew that."

"Sure, you did. Throw it out in the one in the kitchen," he said, kind of shooing me away with his hand, jokingly. I hope.

When I got back from my journey to the kitchen and back, Kevin was still looking through those boxes, and his face was like, dripping with super serious businessness.

"Why so serious?" I asked.

Kevin snort-laughed. "You dork."

I snort-laughed back. "You're the here geek, dude!"

Kevin's serious business facial expression kind of toned down. It toned down to sort of a butthurt-type look. "D-Don't call me that..."

_Woah_, he doesn't like to be called a geek? Damn, Clyde, you learned something today.

To avoid any awkward apologies (and I knew I should have apologized, but I couldn't help myself from changing the subject) I asked him clearer this time, "So, what are you looking for?"

When I looked in the box, it was packed tight with thin strips of paper of cardboard or something. I couldn't really tell exactly what they where, 'cause Kevin was just dipping his fingers between the strips, looking real close.

"I'm looking for records we can listen to."

Woah, woah, _records_? Kevin Stoley owns _records_? Clyde, you learned two things today.

"You mean, those big black circular things? The old ones?"

"Yup," he said, without looking up.

"Woah."

"Like I said, you're easily impressed." He pulled one out. It was a cover I didn't even recognize. I couldn't even find the name of the band or album name on the cover. "They're all my dad's," he said. "I love every single one of them." He held up the cover higher, admiring it. I didn't really see what was so special about it. I still couldn't tell what it was, any part of it at all. It looked like a close-up of a shiny, silver wicker basket. With like, birds on it.

I don't even know.

"Who's that by?" I asked.

"Who," Kevin replied.

"Yeah, who?"

"_The_ Who."

"_The_ who, what? Who is that album by?"

"The Who."

"Yeah, I'm asking you who."

"_The Who!"_ Kevin cried. "The band is called _The Who!"_

Those clever bastards. "Oh. I knew that."

"What kind of music do you listen to, anyway?" he asked me.

Well, I did have an iPod filled with a couple hundred or thousand songs, but didn't everyone...? I didn't know how to summarize all the music I listened to. It kind of just meshed together in just this whole... Clyde genre.

I should be a genre. That'd be some kickass music.

"Well..." I began, "I listen to some... _obscure_ bands. You wouldn't have heard of them. Yeah," I said coolly.

"Like what?" he pressed. "I'm open to new music."

I was like, "Oh, you know. New bands. Like.... like..." Think, Clyde, think, for once! "The What."

"What?" Kevin said. Everything is going according to plan.

"Exactly. No one knows about The What. They're like, my backpocket band. When I talk about The What, people are like, 'Oh, what, The What? I've never heard of _them_, they must be _good!_ I can just tell by their _name_ that they're good! Wow, Clyde, you have some good taste in music.' And they know what they're talking about. Because I'm like, the only one who knows about them."

I think Kevin was trying to hold in some laughter. I don't know why, because _I_ thought I was pretty convincing. "The What. Yeah, I'll look them up," he said.

"Chyeah, you know you wanna look them up," I was like. "You got a record player?"

"Hell, yes," Kevin said.

And there happened to be a record player that I didn't even notice, right on top of his dresser - it was the very dresser that I had been leaning on when I was dying a couple of minutes ago.

"We can listen to it while we play video games..." Kevin said. "...that is, if you want to play video games."

"Is that a serious question?" I was like. "Of course I want to play video games."

"Cool." Kevin was setting the record down on the player real slowly, and carefully. Slowly. Taking his time—

_Oh, shit, time!_


	6. Momentum

VI. **Momentum**

"Kevin! Yo, Kevin, what time is it?"

Kevin turned around, and the music was already playing. "Time for you to get a watch," he said.

"Shut the hell up, dude, I need to call my mom."

So much for staying on the polite side.

I darted out the room, and I don't even know where I was going, I just needed to go with that whole "oh-shit-gotta-break-from-the-crowd-to-call-my-mom" act. People sometimes said I was a momma's boy because I always tell her that I love her too when she ends the conversation with an "I love you!" I do that, because, well, who doesn't? You don't tell your mom you love her? I _love_ my mom. She has the best homemade taco recipe (better than Taco Bell, I shit you not) and she's just pretty kickass.

She's number one on my speed dial.

_Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riii_—"Hello?"

"Mom! Hi!" I greeted.

"Clyde! Sweetie, where are you?" she said. She sounded kinda worried, but not really, because I know she was just glad that I called her first.

"I'm at a friend's house," I said to her. "Sorry, it was kinda last minute."

"Whose house?" she asked.

"Kevin's." Damn, she probably doesn't know Kevin, so she's gonna think I'm at some creeper's house or some other ghetto-gangster kid's apartment, smoking weed and doing coke because that's totally what Clyde Donovan does. Well, weed is Craig's thing. Coke is Kenny's thing. Guess it wouldn't be much of a difference...

"Who's Kevin?" she asked. Totally scripted.

How could I explain this? "...You know. That kid. From my school? The one named Kevin with, like, dark hair and stuff?"

"Um... no..." she said. She seemed kinda confused, which is to be expected. "Are you spending the night? Where does he live? Do you need extra clothes? Or underwear?"

"No, no, no, we're guys, we sleep naked."

There were amounts of things wrong with that statement. One, was the fact that I had implied sleeping naked, which I don't even do often, personally, I just really didn't want my mom to go through the trouble of driving here to bring me clothes that I didn't need. Even if I had a beef stain on my sweatshirt that already smelled kinda funny. The second thing wrong with that statement was that I just said "we sleep," and I didn't even plan on spending the night here. I was just supposed to come upstairs for five minutes, _five_, to check out Papa Stoley's stuff and Kevin's collections and stuff, and nothing more. What I had ended up doing was overstaying my welcome by going and _almost dying_. I think this is the reason why your parents tell you not to go off with strangers, but I've known Kevin since like third grade - it's not like he was going to rape me or anything.

"...Alright, sweetheart. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"Uhm, yeah, I'm sure," I said. That sentence wasn't actually finished, to be quite honest, the continuation should have gone like, "...I'm sure that I'm going to need extra clothes because Kevin is a skinny bitch and I can't borrow clothes from him." Instead, I just followed it up by saying, "I'm staying over, yeah. And Kevin's clothes will fit me, it's alright. I don't even think I'll need any."

"Okay, pumpkin. Have fun! I love you!"

I had to do it, you know, force of habit. "Love you too, mom," I said, smiling.

"Bye-bye! Mwah!" She did that little kissy sound that she always does over the phone.

"Kisses," I said, and flipped the phone closed.

When I got back into Kevin's room, I witnessed a sight that I had never thought witnessable, if that's even a word. The point is, what I was witnessing was not something you may expect from Kevin Stoley, the quiet half-Asian kid who sits alone at lunch, if not trying to blend in with other crowds. That made me think of why exactly he invited me up here - was he lonely? Again, the point was, that this thing I was witnessing was something I found to be very, very exclusive, and I felt somewhat special to be able to see

Kevin Stoley in his very own bedroom, spinning and dancing, lip-syncing to a Who song.

He was moving his arms in this insane way that made him look like he was summoning a god or even being possessed by a demon. When the singing began, he pounced on over to me and gripped me by my shoulders, lip-syncing the lyrics, "_You don't answer my call with even a nod or a wink, but you GAZE at your own REFLECTION!" _It was kind of scary for a few seconds because, well, he was _really_ into it - he seemed like he was seriously angry with me. He kept on moving his lips, "_You don't seem to see me, but I think you can see yourself…_" He sashayed over to the thin four-foot high mirror leaning against the wall by his bed, continuing, "_How can the mirror AFFECT you?" _He ran his hands along the edges of the mirror, like he was about to hug it or something. What drug was Kevin on, and why wasn't he sharing with me?

This time, he belted out with the music, "_Can you hear me, or do I surmise?" _Now, he was invading my personal space bubble again, smothering me with his hands and shaking me, like he was trying to get me to dance, or move, or something - all I kind of did was stand there, watch him, and try not to laugh _too_ hard. He danced away from me, singing, "…_That you fear me, can you feel my temper _— _" _He began spinning in circles, "—_Rise? Rise? Rise? Rise? Rise?" _Getting higher and higher,_ "_—_RISE? RISE? RISE? RISE? RISE? RISE? RISE? RIIIIIISE?" _What the hell was that, thirteen times, he said it? _"Do you hear or fear or, do I smash the mirror?" _The first time he sang that part, he grabbed the water bottle I had been drinking out of, and clubbed it toward the mirror as if he were about to smash it, but stopped short just before he hit it. The second time he sang it, he grabbed me once again, twirling me around - the last time the line was sung, there was a sound effect of glass breaking coming from the record player, as he threw me backwards onto the bed.

So, then he was on top of me - leaning on the bed with hands against the stripes, me on my back, and he's just smiling at me, and breathing. Kevin's teeth were like, really straight, and maybe just a few shades off perfect white.

The music continued to play on its next track, but Kevin wasn't singing nor lip-syncing along - in the background, played, "_You'll feel me coming… a new vibration; from afar you'll see me… I'm a sensation!_" Which sounded slightly sexual, if you ask me, but I was almost sure that that wasn't what this song was supposed to be about.

Kevin chuckled. "Great song, huh?" he said.

I smiled back up at him with my imperfect teeth. "Yeah," I agreed. "Pretty good. You were really into it."

"I love that song," he said. "The movie's great, too…" He trailed off, closing his eyes slowly. Softly, he sang along to the song blaring from the record player, "_They worship me and all I touch, hazy-eyed, they catch my glance…_" And I just watch him sing. He's not necessarily singing to me, he's just singing… around me. His head is facing the wall behind us, but his eyes are closed. His face is shaped really… really… what word could I even use? Nicely? But, then that would make me sound like I think Kevin is attractive, but that's not really what I'm going for at the moment. I'm just looking for a word. It's just that, sometimes when you look _up_ at people, especially me, there's a bit of a double chin going on, but with Kevin, his jaw line and chin are completely defined, which made him sort of beautif—

He continued to sing without moving from his position on top of me. "_Pleasant shudders shake their senses, my warm momentum shows their stance." _We actually weren't making (much) physical contact. Our legs kind of fit into each other, his skinny ones between my thickish ones. Which sounds totally weird. But, honestly, it was fun watching him sing like that. Again, I was feeling exclusive. Who else got to see Kevin do this?

I began to catch along with the lyrics, and I sang along, _"From afar you'll see me; I'm a sensation! I'm a sensation…"_

Kevin opened his eyes and looked down towards me again. I liked his eyes, too, and how unique they were. They were dark, dark brown, but they were also really shining, and if I wasn't mistaken, absolutely gorgeou—

His lips were pursed, as if he were trying to hold in laughter. What is it, my singing voice? It wasn't that bad… I think.

He beamed at me, again. Usually, if Craig were on top of me, I'd be like, "Get the hell off, dickhead," and he'd flip me off and kick me in the shin. But I didn't mind Kevin on top of me. I smiled up at him, involuntarily.

"Your smile is really cute," he said.

I just nodded and laughed and pretended that I couldn't hear him over the music.

"Are we going to play video games now?" I asked.

* * *

**A/N**: So, this is where the music thing starts. XD I'll have a playlist link ready on my profile when the story's done. There's lots of cool music involved later on, so hopefully you won't be a lazy bum and not listen to the songs. It seriously adds like dramatic effect, okay. XD The songs used in this chapter, by order of appearance, are Smash the Mirror and Sensation by The Who. Look 'em up! Also, Kevin's reenacting a scene from a movie, because he's a dork like that. When he dances to Smash the Mirror, he's doing that crazy-ass thing the mom from The Who's _Tommy_ did, so you should YouTube it up. It's also very effective and helps for visualization. XD

See ya soon!


	7. Pyramids

**A/N**: Hey, welcome back, kiddies.  
So did you all see the previews for the new South Park episode this week? It's called The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs. It seems like I'm not the only one who has taken a liking to long, crazy titles.

Speaking of long things (get your mind out of the gutter, kiddies) this chapter isn't. It's actually the shortest chapter of them all. The one that's 1,088 words. But it's also one of my favorites, for like no reason. I just like the way it ends. XD  
So, yeah, I'll update this puppy again on Wednesday, in time for the new SP, and again on Friday, in time for my birthday. I wanna know how old you all think I'm turning, so leave your guess in a review. ;D

Enjoy!

* * *

VII. **Pyramids**

"Yes," he said, somewhat seriously, dismounting me quickly. He opened the glass cabinet door that was under his entertainment center, where there were stacks of games and games and games and more games.

"Up for a little bit of Wii Sports?" I asked. "I'm a mean Wii bowler. Or maybe some Tekken 6, if you're up to it?"

Kevin turned around, smirking. "How are you so sure I have those games?"

"Um, everyone has them?" I said. Well, that wasn't necessarily true, Tweek doesn't have any gaming systems because they're too expensive and he thinks that the underpants gnomes are in league with the Nintendo manufacturers, Craig really only has an Xbox and a Wii and is saving up for a PS3, and Token has like four PS3's, two Xbox 360's, a PlayStation 2, and some other crap imported from Europe that doesn't even exist in the US, unless it's in Token's house.

"I don't own anything that comes after the fifth generation," Kevin said.

That didn't sound very good. "F-Fifth generation?"

Kevin stood up straight and acted, again, like he was about to tell me the most life-changing thing on the planet. "Meaning, I don't own anything newer than a Nintendo 64."

I thought I was suffering of heart failure. "You mean… no PS3? No Wii? No Xbox? Not even a damn PlayStation 2?" How could this guy live with himself? First vinyl records, now this?

Every kid freaks out about gaming systems. Every kid wants to have the latest gaming system, because it's cool, right? Where did Kevin Stoley go wrong, of all people? He was the last person I'd expected to be _this_ old school.

"Well, yeah," Kevin said. "I'm just not into the new stuff. It's too flashy for me. I stick with the classics, 'cause I grew up with 'em. Are you getting me here?"

"Too flashy?" I said. "Too flashy? Dude, the new generation is like incredibly incredible, not _flashy_. I mean, if you're gonna judge new games, you should at least _own_ a few."

"_Oh_, no," Kevin spoke loudly, stepping closer. "You are not starting something with me, are you? Because I can go on about this forever, I'll tell you that right now."

"I'm not _starting_ anything with you, I was just _saying _that you shouldn't be judging video games that you don't own, let alone have _played_."

"I'm not _judging_ any games, I was _just saying_," bastard started to mock me, and you could freaking tell,_ "_that those games just aren't my style, alright? Is that _alright_ with you, Clyde?"

"_Myehmyehmyehmyehmyeh_," I teased, moving my hand up and down like a blabbering puppet, "_Myehmyehmyehmyeh - _no. Do you honestly _expect_—" I began to laugh a little bit, _"_—expect me to play two-dimensional baby games on an ancient granny system?" I thought for a moment how the phrase "baby games" may have cancelled out the term "granny system," but I was hoping that Kevin wouldn't quite catch that.

"You're really annoying, do you know that?" Kevin said. He crossed his arms, nay, he put his hands on his hips. He put his _hands_ on his _hips. _What kind of guy put his hands on his hips? "How do I even put up with you? I mean, do you think you're really making yourself come off as intelligent when you just put down classic games like that? I never said I hated new games, and I'm only a _little_ sorry if you get butthurt if I even imply that I do. Classic games are fantastic, because I appreciate the simplicity and efficiency of the games; think of it as, the Egyptians building pyramids out of nothing but close-cut stone, _perfectly_ cut to fit one on top of the other without having to use cement. You know why? Because cement wasn't even frickin' invented yet, and yet they managed to create the pyramids out of nothing but their natural resources. And the pyramids are kick-ass. And what's kick-ass? Classic games are kick-ass. Hardly any of the advanced game-programming software was invented, yet they managed to create fun, simple games."

"Are you quite finished?" I asked. I looked at him with the same unimpressed gaze as I gave him when he explained his philosophy of zebras. Kevin seemed to have a habit of rambling. And I would be lying if I said I didn't like that. I only acted like I didn't, because any normal person might have gotten annoyed with so much talking and so little listening - but I liked watching his lips move. He spoke like he meant it.

"Yes, yes, I am," he finally said. He began to wind down. I don't know if it was just hot in the room or something, but he was sweating now. It might have been the energy from dancing before, I don't know. Maybe he was just a generally warm person. "Do you want to play video games or not?"

"Yeah, I wanna play video games," I replied. I set myself up a comfy little personal square on the carpet, and sat Indian style.

"You're unbelievable," Kevin breathed.

"I know." And then I thought it might have been a good time to tell him that I was staying over. "Oh, yeah, by the way, I'm crashing here for the night, if that's _alright_ with you."

Kevin was in front of me, going through games again - he suddenly stopped. Without looking at me, he asked, "And who decided this?"

That was a very good question, what Kevin asked. If I could trace back correctly, I do think it was my mom, first, who asked me if I was staying over, and I kind of, just… agreed. This is what I tell him.

"You didn't even ask me if I had anything planned for tonight or tomorrow," Kevin said. "I could have gone out to save the world tonight, for all you know."

"And you wouldn't let me come and save the world with you?" I said. "Dick."

And for a second, I regretted just calling him a dick. He got offended by "geek," who knows what he's going to ramble on about now that that slipped out?

He just laughed.

I decided then that Kevin was a strange, strange guy.


	8. Fiddle

**A/N**: Whew, am I exhausted. I think I might end up sleeping through the new SP tonight. Ugh...

Well, here's some short video game crap for ya. And some physical contact. Mmph. Not quite there yet. Two days 'til my birthday, which means two days 'til the next update.

LEGEND OF ZELDA FTW

* * *

VIII. **Fiddle**

He didn't tell me I _couldn't_ stay over. That was a good sign, I think. But, I was prepared to get kicked out at any time, should he spontaneously fly out his window to go and save the world. I was kind of waiting for him to do that.

He took one of those ancient game cartridges that you blow into out of his cabinet, and stuck it into his Nintendo 64.

Hey.

"Hey," I said, "I don't get to pick the game?"

"You're playing _Ocarina of Time_, and you're gonna like it," he said sternly. "_Ocarina of Time _is the epitome of classic games. You'll eat your words." I don't really even know what 'epitome' means, and I don't think I could spell it either. 'Epitome' sounds like it's a word for like a really big book or something. I'd never know. Before I could even ask what the hell _Ocarina of Time _was, the controller was in my hands and I had no idea what to do. How does anyone even hold a Nintendo 64 controller? There are like, three whole handlebars on it, and I can't even fit my fat fingers in between them to completely hold the two outer ones. Obviously, Kevin's skinny-ass fingers would have no problem slipping between those crannies between handlebars, but I thought I was about to lose my fingers to a joystick.

Kevin had no controller. Something told me that this wasn't a game for two.

When I got to the start screen, I was thinking like, _wait, wait, wait, I know this game_. I mean, I should have known because it was called, you know, _Ocarina of Time_, and I don't know what other game has the word 'ocarina' in the title. I was obviously too occupied to even notice the big-ass _Legend of Zelda _logo on the game cartridge.

"Wait, dude, I know this game," I said. "Is this the one where Link turns into a stupid nut?"

Kevin frowned. "No, dude, that's _Majora's Mask_. And he wasn't a nut. He was a Deku Scrub, that was, if you put on the Deku mask. You could have also been a Goron or a Zora or some other scary monster-type things, and the walk-through videos on YouTube made it look super kick-ass... but I never got that far... but I don't know many people who got past, like, _anything_. That game was a bitch..."

I looked at him. "Really, Kevin, I find that extra moderately amusing."

"Go ahead and start a new game," Kevin said, leaning backward and stretching his long legs in front of him.

I was on a menu screen with only one file filled, entitled "Kevin." And for a moment, I considered calling my guy "Clyde." Because, last time I checked, Clyde was my name. But I only thought of this for a second or two, because I suddenly had the greatest idea ever. I had to confirm with Kevin, because I _did_ have _Twilight Princess _for the Wii, and I had to make sure if it was the same back in like the eighteenth century, which is when I was pretty sure this game came out. That's like, the same time as Christopher Columbus...

"Hey, Kevin," I said, "Whatever I call my guy, is that what they call him for the whole game?"

"Uh, yes," Kevin said.

"Like, seriously? The _whole_ game, they call him by that name?"

"I don't lie, Clyde, that's why I said 'yes' the first time," Kevin confirmed.

I selected the second file, and began to enter the name of this guy: _"B-I-T-C—"_

"_Oh_, no," Kevin cried. He dove over to grab the controller straight from my hands, but there was no way I was letting it go. Trying to pry the thing from my tight grip, extra letters appeared on the screen as his fingers involuntarily pressed the buttons, "_Bitchhgg." _

"No, no, no, no, no," I was like, "_Let_ me have — _let _me have the controller — !"

"Just—call him—'_Link!' _You're _not_ calling him 'bitch!'"

"I _am! _Can't you _have _a little fu — _ow!" _

Did I mention that this kid had super long nails? He was totally digging into my wrists just to grab the controller from my hands, and he was on top of me again, moving his body, kinda, with a lot of force, acting like he really, _really_ wanted to play with my controller for whatever reason. I was holding the controller away, and even though his arms were longer than mine, I held a tight grip on his shirt so I think I was kind of choking him as he was stretching to grab the controller, which was totally trippy, because he had just like unchoked me before, so I don't think I was really returning any favors. He grunted a little, and he moved his hand downward on my body to kind of hold me down more, I guess, and he still couldn't reach the controller, and I gripped his pants by his belt loop, and he punched me in the stomach, and it didn't even hurt because, well, you know, I was laughing too hard and it kinda tickled, not to mention Kevin kind of sucks at punching.

Music from the record player was still playing, and it was a song with a lot of deep horns. The lyrics went something like, _"I'm glad you won't see or hear me as I fiddle about, fiddle about, fiddle about."_

He started to wiggle more, and I was getting really tired of having him on top of me because, well, I couldn't really tell who was the heavier one here, me or him, 'cause I've got extra padding and he's pretty tall, but either way, I think I could feel my nuts turning inside out, because Kevin was sort of kneeing me there. (_"Your mother left me here to mind you, now I'm doing what I want to - fiddling about, fiddling about, fiddle about.")_ And it wasn't really much fun anymore. So, since my fingers were sweaty enough already, the controller slipped out of my hand and he just took it from me. Just like that. (_"Down with the bedclothes, up with your nightshirt - fiddle about, fiddle about, fiddle about.")_ Maybe the fight wasn't so worth it in the end, because, really, all he did was delete all the letters we smashed on together, and deleted "bitch" so that it was blank again. (_"You won't shout as I fiddle about, fiddle about, fiddle about.")_

Kevin was breathing hard. He looked down, kind of, and sat back on the floor in his spot, and brought his knees up to his chest. "Just... Just call him whatever you want," he said. He was shaking. "I'll, uh... I'll be right back." ("_Fiddle about, fiddle about, fiddle about, fiddle about, fiddle about, fiddle about_—")

He ran out of the room kinda funny, like the house was on fire. He didn't close the door behind him, but when I heard him stumble down that little wannabe staircase, I heard another door slam, and a lock click. (_"Fiddle, fiddle, fiddle, fiddle, fiddle, fiddle, fiddle...")_

I called the dude "bitch," anyway.

* * *

**A/N**: Kevin just doesn't want the game of his childhood ruined with profanity. :C He just wants to keep it innocent.

But not for long~ ;D


	9. Hulk

**A/N**: Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me~ /singsong

NO DAMN YOU FANFICTION, THIS STORY WAS UPDATED ON MARCH 26TH NOT MARCH 25TH get my time zone right okay

Hell yeah it's my birthday. B-| MARCH 26TH NOT 25TH DON'T TRUST THAT SHIT. I always wondered which chapter I would upload on my birthday. This one's a good one. We're also more than halfway through the story you guyses. DAS CRAZY.

Well, actually this chapter's pretty crazy 'cause it's full of, well, Legend of Zelda. I played the game numerous times to get this chapter right, and of course I called Link 'Bitch.' I HAD TO BRING THE STORY TO LIFE. Also, a lot of Clyde's comments about the game derive from my older sister, Cassie, who also played the game with me for this chapter.

And yeah, this chapter ends kinda messily and chopped off, so... update either tomorrow or the day after that, as per usual, maybe. XD

I forgot what else I was gonna say for this chapter, so just enjoy~

* * *

IX. **Hulk**

So, Kevin hadn't been back for more than a couple of minutes, and I was already getting started on the game. I had to read through all the "vast, deep forest of Hyrule" bullshit like I always have to, and no matter how many times I pressed _A_, the text would not go by faster and I couldn't skip a single cut scene. In _new_ games, you can choose _not_ to listen to the background story. Like, like, like in _Assassin's Creed II_, you can totally just press _X_ _one time_ and you don't have to listen to the whole lame-ass, "_My name is Desmond Miles, and this is my story,_" bullcrap. Because, first of all, _Assassin's Creed II _isn't even Desmond's story, it's totally Ezio's, and—

"I'm back, dude," Kevin's voice kind of broke my train of thought. He seemed chill now. Smiling, kind of. Like nothing ever happened.

"Welcome back, dick," I said, since I knew this strange kid wouldn't get bothered if I said that. He sat back down on his spot on the carpet, stretching out his long legs in front of him yet again. He leaned back and watched the story go by with me, all with its crappy-ass graphics. (Bitch-)Link's face looked as if he just crapped himself when Ganondorf emerged from the castle, on his horse, both of which looked like it was made out of cardboard, nay, crumpled paper.

"I have no idea what's going on," I said.

"Well, did you read the story?" Kevin pressed.

"Are you kidding? I don't have the attention span for that," I said. The only thing I noticed while I skimmed through the story was that they used old English words, like "thee," "thy," "dost," and "hither." And it really stood out, too, because they were in the middle of all these casual, modern-day English words. Not that I know much about old English, because I don't even know that much regular English in the first place.

What I have learned so far:

1. I am a Kokiri that has been summoned by a tree.  
2. The tree can talk.  
3. I'm the loser kid because I'm the only one that has no fairy.  
4. However, I am still the coolest because I am the only Kokiri who lives in a treehouse with a ladder and everything, as opposed to a house inside of a tree (Kevin pointed this out to me.)  
5. The fairy I'm supposed to get, named Navi, is uncoordinated, because when we see the forest from her point of view, she flies between a kid's legs and then hits a wall.  
6. It is hilarious when Navi calls me 'Bitch.' It goes something like this:

"_Hello, Bitch! Wake up! The Great Deku Tree wants to talk to you! Bitch, get up!"_

When Navi started talking to me, I couldn't help but burst out in this fit of retarded laughter. I _knew_ it would be the best to name him Bitch, and Kevin doubted me. I know he didn't want to laugh because he tried to stop me, because when I looked up at him as I was laughing on my back, his face was red and he was trying way, way too hard to try and keep a straight face.

"You can laugh!" I cried. "It's frickin' funny, is it not?"

Kevin giggled the way he did. I've heard Kevin laugh a lot tonight, but for some reason, I think it's rare for him to laugh. He normally comes off as a really serious guy in school, really quiet and keeps to himself, so... for some reason, I felt like I was earning his laughs. He didn't really laugh at just anything. This much I knew.

"It is pretty funny," Kevin agreed.

I sat back up from my position on the floor, and continued to attempt skipping all the dialogue. Kevin didn't say anything about that, since he probably read it all before.

But, when this green-haired whore comes running toward my awesome treehouse, she starts saying, "_Yahoo! Hi, Bitch! Finally, a fairy came to you, Bitch! Now you're a true Kokiri, Bitch!_"which made Kevin and me laugh really, really, hard. Like, you don't even know.

You had to be there.

Anyway, after the laughter died down (even with the little lingering giggles afterwards, whatever that means) Navi was all like, "_Hey! Listen!"_ And I was all, "No_, you_ listen, bitchbag," which also made Kevin laugh super hard.

Navi told me that I had to go see the Deku tree.

I told her to screw off.

So, I had to go see the Deku tree for whatever reason, because it was summoning me, and as I'm running around the Kokiri forest, I pass by this kid, who just happens to be humping a rock.

"Why is that kid humping a rock?" I laughed.

"He's trying to pick it up," Kevin explained.

"It doesn't look like it," I said.

And then I pressed _A _next to a rock, and I picked it up real easy. Just like that. I held it above my head like it was the Lion King or something. Then I pressed _A_ again, and I threw it against a tree (someone's house, apparently). The rock shattered. What the hell kind of flimsy crap was it made of so that I could pick it up so easily and break it with just one throw?

"Why is it that this kid has been humping that rock, nay, attempting to pick up that rock, while I can pick it up like it's box of feathers? I am the freaking Hulk. No wonder the Deku Tree summoned me," I said.

Kevin giggled again.

And then Kevin told me that I had to go buy a shield from the Kokiri shop or whatever, and I spent like twenty minutes trying to find forty "rupees" (what the hell is a rupee, anyway? It sounds like a fruit more than a form of currency) to pay for it. The shop only sold shields, but not swords, and, well, I thought that was pretty lame. And when I tried to go through the exit (or entrance?) towards the Tree guy, Kevin didn't even say anything when the dick guarding the exit/entrance didn't let me through. When Kevin did tell me, though, it was kind of like:

"Mido's not gonna let you through if you don't have both a sword and a shield equipped."

"Well, Mido's a dick."

When I started to get clueless, Kevin began to guide me. He held the controller at the same time I was, so our hands were sort of overlapping. He guided my thumb on the analog stick towards this secret passageway and squished my other thumb on _A_ to crawl into that passageway. On the other side of it, there was like this maze-type thing. Kevin let go of my hands and let me do the rest. I went right, and found a blue rupee (that's worth five!) and when I went left, there was this giant boulder coming straight for me, so I kind of cried, "Oh, shit, boulder!" And then when I said that, Kevin dove over and grabbed the controller again, but he still overlapped with my hands. He moved me so I could jump out of the way of the boulder, and my life was saved.

"You..." I mumbled. "You... you saved my life. Again."

"Uh, no, I didn't," Kevin said. "I just saved you from losing a third of your health. "

"_My life!" _I insisted. "You _saved_ my _life_!"

"Whatever you say," Kevin droned.

Kevin told me which ways to go, and I almost told him to shut up because I would say that I knew what I was doing, but I really didn't know where I was going, so I kind of wanted to thank him for telling me where to get the sword (which really wasn't much of a sword, it was more like a butter knife), but I never got a chance to say that either because Kevin kept laughing too hard at how many times I had said, "Suck my dick, Mido."

When I finally passed through Mido at the exit/entrance, Mido was certainly unhappy - he said something about not getting how I could be the favorite of the Deku tree and Saria (someone I didn't even bother talking to) and it was not he who was the favorite. Well, sorry, Mido, but no one likes a douchebag.

"Suck my dick, Mido," I said, one last time.

I thought I was running through a plain path of just grass and dirt and stuff, but I was proven wrong when a _killer Venus fly trap popped out of the ground_. Like usual, I screamed, "Oh, shit, killer Venus fly trap!" But, Kevin did not come to my rescue.

Instead, Kevin was like, "Slash 'em with your sword!"

And I was like, "You mean my _butter knife_?"

But, it was easy slaying them when I just smashed on _B _a few dozen times. Apparently, when you kill angry man-eating tulips, you get a souvenir stick, and the game acts as if it's as epic as obtaining a butter knife. It's like, yeah, oh, how great, I got a stick, I can whoop some serious ass with this. I wasn't gonna say this out loud, though, because of how excitedly Kevin exclaimed, "Get the stick, get the stick!"

Then, I finally got to the part with the tree, and it seemed intense. The music got all sappy and dramatic, and then the camera angle panned to the tree, and I burst out laughing yet again.

First of all, the tree was talking to me, again. _"Bitch... Welcome.. Bitch, the time has come to test thy courage." _Another detail I can't possibly leave out - as if this game couldn't get any better, the tree had a moustache. Because you need a moustache to be a talking tree, right?

I was getting really sick of this game, even though it made me laugh super hard. So, when the Great Deku Tree asked me, ever-so intensely, "_Dost thou have courage enough to undertake this task?" _I answered, "No."

I just liked the fact that it was an option.

"_Perhaps you do not yet have confidence in your abilities..." _No, I snipped a few of your killer weeds, I think I might be able to talk on a tree, actually. "_Return to the Kokiri Forest to learn the skill of combat... when thou art ready, return here and speak with me by using L.._." Way to ruin a dramatic moment by giving me control directions.

And then the music in the game went back to being all happy and flutey. Even the music from the record player, which was louder than the music in the game, began to pick up a little. (_"That deaf, dumb and blind kid, sure plays a mean pinball!") _

"Dude, turn back," Kevin said, sort of unimpressed.

"I am! I just wanted to see what would happen if I said I didn't have the courage," I said.

"Well, duh, he sends you back to the forest," Kevin replied.

But, when I turned around to go back to the talking tree with facial hair, and I killed those angry tulips again ("I killed you once, stay dead!" I had cried). Then, I realized, I didn't even want to play this stupid game anymore. I'd rather play Wii, PS3, Xbox, anything but this Nintendo 64 crap.

"Okay, I'm tired of this stupid game," I said, dropping the controller onto the carpet. Kevin made grabby hands at the controller and immediately picked it up.

"Show some respect for her," he said, petting the controller.

_Her? _"Well, whatever, dude, I'm not playing..."


	10. Sync

**A/N**: Aaaaay. Aaay - thanks for all the happy birthdays, guys. My birthday was pretty awesome, and I'm still partying with my friends right now. We've been pigging out on mini weenies and mozzarella sticks, as well as other assorted unhealthy party food. As my friend just said, "Man, I'm gonna wake up tomorrow, and I'm gonna regret eating all these weenies." Story of our lives, guys.

How many of you think that Kevin would feed Clyde small finger foods and pretend the food's a spaceship? All like, "Neeeeur, open the blackhole!" and Clyde would eat it. Well, I should lay off the slashy, fluffy scenarios for now, because we haven't gotten to the full-blown slash yet. But it's coming up soon. That's why I'm uploading this just a day after, because this one's another one of the shortest chapters, and the one after that is the last chapter before this story starts getting really epic. At least I think so. Chapters 12 through 15 are definitely my favorites. So bear with these short pieces for now, and then the story will kick itself into shape.

Enjoy this! This story's been getting a lot more alerts and faves these days, so be sure to leave a review if you can! :3

* * *

X. **Sync**

"You have a short attention span," Kevin said.

"Hey," I was like. I pointed my finger at him as I stood up. "You're lucky I played for more than five and a half minutes, I was on that shit for like half an hour. I don't do anything for half an hour, man."

Kevin blinked. "Touché," he said. He, too, got up, and shut off the Nintendo 64 ("No, wait, we didn't save!" I cried, but Kevin didn't say or do anything), and went back to looking through that box of records. I didn't ask what he was going to put on, but when I saw the cover, it looked like kind of a spaceship or something. A flying saucer, invading something with a blue beam.

When he stuck it on the record player, I was surprised to know the song.

_"I looked out this morning, and the sun was gone. Turned on some music, to start my day. I lost myself in a familiar song. I closed my eyes and I slipped away..." _

I could feel my lips slowly smiling as I bobbed my head to the guitar bridge; I looked down, and closed my eyes. ("_It's more than a feeling, when I hear that old song they used to play... I begin dreaming...") _

And then, I just barely heard Kevin shoveling through game cartridges - there were little banging sounds of plastic against each other, and I heard a little, "_Ah-ha, found it," _and I heard the game click into the system. I didn't see what game he was playing, or let alone what exactly he was doing. I heard pixilated music come from the TV, loud and beepy, and whether it had been _Legend of Zelda_ or _Star Wars_, I didn't care, because Kevin turned down the volume all the way and let the song be the only sound in the room. ("_So many people have come and gone... their faces fade as the years go by...") _I was hanging out right next to the record player, so the music was crystal clear in my ears (that rhymed, I think). I leaned backwards and found myself sitting in Kevin's desk chair, with my eyes closed, fingers tapping on the desk. (_"...Yet I still recall as I wander on... as clear as the sun in the summer sky.") _And again, with the insane guitar bridge, and back to the chorus, "_It's more than a feeling, when I hear that old song they used to play... I begin dreaming... 'Til I see my Marianne walk away. I see my Marianne walking away..." _And the beat picks up. The singing gets even higher on "away" and trails off as the solo begins.

I open my eyes slightly. And I see Kevin.

Kevin, standing in the middle of his room again, his hands in air guitar positions. His fingers are moving like crazy, and seem to be insanely in sync with the music. And I just watch him. His eyes are closed too, and he's crouching down, getting really into his air guitar playing. He thrusts his torso along with music, and I swear I could have heard him mumbling, "_Green, red, yellow, blue, orange, blue, orange, blue, yellow, red, orange, blue, yellow, blue, yellow, red, yellow, blue, orange, blue, orange, blue, yellow, red..._"

Well, I think I might love Kevin, and I don't mean that in the way you probably think. I mean, who wouldn't love a guy who memorized _Guitar Hero_ combos?

When the solo faded off, "—_blue, yellow, blue, yellow, red, green, red, yellow, blue, yellow, red, orange,"_ he wound down to a slouching position on the floor, on his knees. He was breathing heavily again, and even though the song was still going, I gave him an applause and a standing ovation.

Kevin looked up, and I smiled at him. He smiled back. (_"When I'm tired, and thinking cold...")_

"That was super hardcore," I said. (_"...I hide in my music, forget the day.") _

"You think so?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah, totally," I told him. "Were those _Guitar Hero _combos?" I asked. I mean, I had to ask him, because it'd be weird if he was just murmuring colors while he was air-guitaring. Also, I thought he didn't own anything newer than a Nintendo 64.

"Yes," he responded, "expert level." He waggled his eyebrows.

"I could tell," I said, waggling my eyebrows back at him. "On easy, you would have said like three colors." Before he could even respond to that, again, I _had _to ask, "Hey, I thought you didn't own anything newer than a Nintendo 64?"

"I don't," said Kevin. "I play that game religiously at my cousin's house."

Got him! "So you _do_ like new games!" I shouted. Oh, man, I knew this kid wasn't that old school! How could any teenage guy resist the good stuff?

"No, no, I never said that!" Kevin said. He was grinning a grin that usually meant, "oh, shucks, you caught me!"

"Yes! Yes, I knew it! Admit it!" I prodded. I came closer to him, and I felt more powerful now, since he was on the floor and I was over him. "Admit that you like new games!"

"I'm not going to admit something just because I've played _Guitar Hero!_" he said, crossing his arms.

"Not _only_ have you played _Guitar Hero_, but you are an _expert _at it, no? So, _obviously_, you must love new games. Or, at least, you don't hate them!"

"I never said I hated them!"

"But you implied it!"

"I never even tried to imply it!"

"You were _thinking_ about it!"

"You wanna shut up?"

Woah, spicy comeback from Kevin there. Was not expecting that. He was pointing at me sternly, with his finger twitching as if it was kinda like, "Explain yourself, young man!" And his eyebrows were really high on his forehead, from what I could see under his bangs.

And after a few seconds of me looking like a frightened little girl and him looking like an angry father, he laughed. I laughed. We laughed. And then it died down, and it was awkward again. He was still on the floor. You can picture this. It's awkward.

"I'm gonna play _Star Wars_ now," Kevin said kind of quietly, but I could still hear him, somehow. He didn't even get up to go back to play - he slid his knees across the carpet like a little kid switching from action figures to Legos, if that makes any writerly-like sense. He plopped back down on his ass comfortably to continue playing whatever _Star Wars_ game he was playing.

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, just so you know, you guys, those GH combos are accurate. I watched the expert level version of More Than a Feeling on YouTube and I wrote that shit down. I'm so dedicated. :|


	11. Clydictionary

**A/N**: FFFUUUU-- Hi. :3

I have nothing to say about this, until the end. XD Enjoy~

* * *

XI. **Clydictionary**

I backed up slowly into the chair. The chair squeaked.

"You could play with me, if you want," Kevin offered, without turning around.

I shook my head, but he wasn't looking at me, so I realized that wasn't really helpful. "No, thanks," I said. I actually wanted to scope Kevin's room. Not that I would tell him that I'd be looking through his stuff. I mean, he was so into his game right now. He didn't even say anything to me when I rejected his game offer, which he must have been glad about, because from what I could see, he was really, really kicking ass in that game. There was a lot of shooting and flying, from what I could see, yeah. I was spinning around too much in Kevin's spinny chair, so I was kind of dizzy and the screen and the rest of the room looked more like an acid trip than anything.

I lied my head down on his desk to calm the dizziness. There were loads of papers on his desk. I was lying on a thin layer of papers with like these scribbles on them, and they looked like unfinished drawings. Like, there were a couple of those circle things with the cross thingy across it, to draw the face features. I never understood why they did that. I always skipped that part in art class. I just went straight to the point, eyes and nose and mouth right way, with no plan. I mean, that's what Picasso did, right?

I had to move a few of those empty diet Pepsi cans to get to the rest of the papers. Underneath the piles of scribbly sketches, I started to find these really, really clean and neat drawings of complex characters, whatever that means. Ones with different kinds of armor and stuff, and cool weapons, too. And then underneath those inky black and white ones, there were these _awesome_ colored ones - I swear, they looked like they were printed out from a computer, but when I turned them over, it looked like they were done completely in marker.

If my inference skills are, um, skillful enough, I'm pretty sure Kevin drew these - because, if the initials '_KS_' written in the corner of every drawing didn't give away enough, I don't know what did. Plus, these were pretty Star Warsy, if you know what I mean.

His drawings were fun to look at. He drew realistically, but at the same time, it looked cartoony, and kind of exaggerated, whatever that means. But they really popped off the page - I think that's what art critics call it. Or teachers. They say it's good when it pops off the page. That was Kevin's drawings, times like a thousand.

I ended up picking up papers thought I thought I hadn't seen, so I looked at the same drawings like three times each. There were drawers on both sides of the desk, so I quietly slid them open, and there were more drawings. I looked through a bunch of them, and they were really, really amazing.

And then there was this one.

This one. Well-drawn, sort of more realistic than the other ones. Full-color, high-quality paper, whatever that means - anything a good quality drawing could be.

But it just made me go, "Woah," out loud.

Kevin heard it. He turned around. "What?" he said, curiously.

Quick, Clyde, act like you're clueless! "Did you..." I started. Stammering always sounds good for cluelessness. "Did you draw this?" I held it up slowly.

His eyes widened.

"Oh, shit - !" he cried, and stumbled towards me, letting the controller of his precious Nintendo 64 drop to the ground. He grabbed the picture right out of my hands and struggled to find somewhere to put it, like he didn't know where anything else in his room was. "Um, no, I -" He tried to explain himself, but it clearly wasn't working. "Let me - let me explain!"

"Go ahead," I said.

"Well, you see -" he said, not looking at me, but at the picture. "You see, uh -"

"Dude. You don't have to act like that," I said to him. "It's still a really good drawing... you're really, like, an, um, amazing artist."

Kevin then looked me in the eyes. He said, "Thanks," really softly. He was visibly sweating. "I think this picture kind of sucks, actually."

"No, dude, it's like, incredible," I told him, because I meant it.

"You see..." he began, just as softly as before, "most people... like the more popular pairings... like Han with Leia... Luke and Mara... and Anakin and Padmé... but I really like Qui-Gon with Obi-Wan."

I...

Have no idea what he is talking about.

I've only seen like two _Star Wars _movies in my life. Maybe two and a half. But I'm pretty sure that there aren't any scenes with two guys making out with each other. I'm overall just pretty sure that there is no gayness involved in _Star Wars_.

Let's see if I can get this right. "Why?" I asked. "Why not just go for the popular pairings?"

"Well," he said. Oh, no, he was about to get started on something, wasn't he? "The other pairings make sense, but I just don't really think they're all that, well, _great_. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are already pretty close because of their master-and-apprentice relationship..." Watching his lips move. Again. No listening. Again. Something like, "_Blah, blah, master and apprentice, blah, blah, blah, dominance, blah, pretty hot, blah, alternate universe where Qui-Gon isn't killed by Darth Blah."_ That was pretty close, as far as I knew.

So, there was only one grand question I had to ask. "Well, are you gay?"

Kevin dropped the picture. His face reddened a little bit - blushing, was he? Caught the bastard red-handed. I knew any straight guy wouldn't put his hands on his hips.

"Why are you asking?" He put his hands on his hips. Seriously. "Are _you_?"

God, he is so gay, he's so totally trying to stay away from the subject. This poor dude must have been so far in the closet that he's found Narnia. But, now he's throwing the question back at me, and it would have been rude to not answer, wouldn't it? I mean, I could have pulled the whole "I asked first, you answer first" thing, but I was the guest. Kind of. There was some really messed up logic going through my mind when this was happening - I mean, no one ever asked me if I was gay before, so I never really thought of an answer. I mean, everyone has asked Craig if he was gay at least like, eight times a week, and all he does is flip them off. But Clyde Donovan doesn't flip people off, now, does he? But, seriously. In all seriousliness, I never really thought about it before and I never, well, didn't consider it. Girls got on my nerves a lot. Just because they have nice boobs and stuff doesn't mean that they can please you all the time, even if they look like they can in fold-out Playboy covers. Why would I, like... huh... what's the word for it? Restrict, limit? I'd feel so... unfree. If that's a word. If I could only like girls, I'd feel unfree. That's probably not a word, but you know what I mean.

Right?

"I'm not gay," I said. "But I could be like, half-gay."

"So, you're bisexual," Kevin said. And it wasn't like a, "so, you're bisexual?" No, it was a statement. He dubbed me bisexual, it would seem.

"Is that the word?" I said. Craig told me that girls didn't like bisexual guys. He told me that they have a philosophy that goes, "If you suck cock, you're gay." But then he also told me that girls think it's more "natural" for themselves to be bisexual. I don't get it! Craig didn't get it! Girls are so confusing. Everything is confusing. I don't like words. I can't remember half the words I'm supposed to know, in case you couldn't even tell - I should have my own dictionary. I'll call it the Clydictionary. And it will sell for big bucks because every word will mean exactly what it sounds like. A rupee will be a fruit, and it would be spelled 'roopee,' an epitome would be a really big book, and it would be spelled 'epitamee.' And every other word that should be a word would be in there. That way, it wouldn't be so confusing. Also, peoplesexual would be a word. Just in case I eliminate (whatever that means) the definition of 'gender,' which should be done in regular English, anyway.

"I'm gay," Kevin just said.

Well, I guess he wasn't so confused.

"That's cool," I said. "That's cool."

"It is cool," Kevin said, nodding his head as nonchalantly as if he were agreeing with me that pepperoni pizza was cool.

"When did you figure it out?" I asked. I think I was allowed to ask him that. I didn't know if it was really a touchy subject or anything, it worked out fine in movies most of the time. It wasn't like Kevin was going to turn into a human-killing robot or something. Or maybe he would.

"Like, a few years ago, I guess," Kevin replied, shrugging. "It wasn't really much of a big discovery. It happened pretty quick... besides. I am a Jedi. We are fair and peaceful mediators. There was no reason for my to look down on my own sexual preference." He leaned on his dresser, and turned the volume down on the record player a little bit. (_"I understand about indecision, but I don't care if I get behind. People living in competition, all I want is to have my peace of mind...")_

"And do your parents know?" I wasn't so sure that I was allowed to ask that either.

"Nope," Kevin said, as if he were proud. In fact, he smiled more, and he said it with such enthusiasm. It's like he was saying, "Nope, we're not out of Captain Crunch! Go ahead and eat!" or, "Nope, I'm not tired, I'm ready to party!" or something. I'm probably not really all that good at describing how he said it. I don't think I was really cut out for this.

"Um..." I said. Smart, Clyde. "Well, then." If I had a penny for every awkward moment I had with this guy, I might as well be rich. I didn't really want to talk about it anymore. Really, it made me my stomach all... what's the word? It wouldn't be butterflies, because isn't that when you're anxious for something good about to happen? And I wouldn't have a "pit" in my stomach, because that's the feeling you get when you get caught peeing on the side of your school principal's house (this has happened). It's not the same kind of feeling you get when you're really hungry, either. Why would I be hungry? Well, then again, I _am _always hungry. But that's not what my stomach felt like at the time. Maybe it was just gas or something. Uch.

Well, it probably was, because I found myself running to the bathroom in less than a few seconds. Or something. Some insanely fast amount of time. It was fast, yeah.

The thing was, I didn't even know where the bathroom was - like I said, this house has the craziest layout of them all. I passed by the shiny, new, mirror-like refrigerator again, and when I saw myself in it, I looked like crap. I mean, I think I always look pretty revolting anyway, whatever that means, but my face was really red. Uch. Again.

I saw this half-open door down the hall, and it had that godly lighting peeking out from it that said, "Yes, I am a bathroom." And it invites you in. I ran straight for it.

Damn you, Pepsi.

* * *

**A/N**: KEVIN DRAWING STAR WARS SLASH WAS ZEROMOTION'S IDEA

I SWEARRRR

go pee, Clyde, PEE FOR YOUR LIFE


	12. ASS Invader

**A/N**: OW SHIT my toe hurts really bad... I just thought I should share because AUGH IT'S KILLING ME

Anyway, FFFFUUUU at the reviews I got last time! 10 in one chapter? Doesn't sound like a lot, but it's the most so far! If only it was like that at the beginning, but oh well. XD At the beginning, I had done calculations (and I suck at math so I don't even...) to see how many reviews I'd have when it was finished, at the rate I had by chapter 3, and it came to about 78. Now I'm at 73 and we're on chapter 12. XD You guys rock. Seriously, I do love every single one of you and all the support I get - especially with the fanart I've gotten this week. I got one from SouthParkPhilosopher and one from mittens10. The links are on my profile - go look at them, because they are both super cute and everything. :'D

Anyway, yeah here's another super fast update because I CAN'T WAIT TO GET THIS WHOLE THING UP.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU EVERYONE 8D your reviews make me so happy. I swear I woke up this morning and the first thing I did was check my e-mail on my phone and I was half-asleep and reading reviews so I swear I dreamt about your reviews. XD That's not crazy. THAT'S NOT CRAZ--

* * *

XII. **A.S.S. Invader**

On the way back to Kevin's room, I was reminded of what I walked into the last time I left. He'd been dancing around like a maniac and he practically molested me. So, before I open the door again, I listened closely to what might have been going on in the room - the music had been stopped, and when I peeked inside, there was certainly no dancing. I just saw Kevin standing over his bed. It seemed safe to come in.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Setting up your bed, so you can sleep here," Kevin said, as he rolled the zebra-print sheets off his bed. He set them on the floor on the space in front of his bed, folding it all neat and one-person sized.

"But aren't those your sheets?" I said.

"It's okay, I can sleep without them."

Aw, man, first of all, I didn't really want to strip Kevin of his awesome bedsheets just so I could sleep on the floor. I dunno if he even had an extra sheets, and I didn't ask. But, the second thing was that I didn't really want to sleep on the floor, even if it was on top of a blanket. I couldn't tell which one of these I should have told Kevin first. The considerate one, or the picky one.

"But I don't want to sleep on the floor," I ended up saying. I think I unintentionally sounded like a dick.

"Would you rather sleep in a cardboard box?" he asked. And I knew he meant that in a way that was sort of like, "you have no choice," but if he did have a cardboard box, with some padding, maybe, and it was big enough for me, sure. Sure, I'd like to sleep in a cardboard box. This is what I tell him.

"Are you serious?" Kevin was like. He dropped a pillow. "Because, seriously, I can go get that refrigerator box and set it up nice and cozy for you, if you're that serious about not wanting to sleep on the floor. I can't promise a cardboard box will be any better."

"Maybe I just want to sleep in a cardboard box for the story," I said. And I was sort of thinking aloud there. "I could tell people I slept in a cardboard box at your house because you didn't even think I was good enough to sleep on a pullout sofa."

Kevin frowned. "Don't tell people that," he said. "I'll be right back."

When he left the room, I heard some rustling going on. There were sounds of papers crinkling and squeaky door noises and a thud against a wall and some loud, angry Chinese words. From these sounds, I really can't conclude what Kevin is going through to retrieve a box. It was like one of those cartoon sound effects where you hear a loud bang and a cat screech, but instead, it's in Chinese.

Giggling at my own thoughts, Kevin came back into the room, calm and in one piece. He was hauling in the box, which was folded a bit so it could actually, like, fit through the door. He kicked the sheets on the floor aside and unfolded the box, and, woah, that thing was huge - it was better than any old television box you could ever have as a kid to play in. Seriously, it was like, the _size_ of an actual bed. Well, really, the size of a refrigerator (and slightly bigger! You need space for the actual fridge with bubble wrap padding and stuff). I think I was going to have a fine night's sleep in that box.

"You wanted a cardboard box?" Kevin said, brushing his hands together. "There's your cardboard box."

He took the sheets off the floor, kind of balled up in his arms, and he dropped it into the box. And I thought he was going to just leave it like that, and let me sleep on a balled up bunch of blankets in a cardboard box. I was about to step into the box and set it up myself, but then Kevin stepped inside of it first (and it was actually pretty high - he had to lift his legs up a lot). He began to smooth out the blanket, corner to corner. He reached over the edge and grabbed the single pillow he dropped, and set it right up against a wall. In the box. It's like a little house.

He stood up with his hands on those hips again. He looked at me.

"Wow. Uh," was all I could say. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said.

"But..." I said. "It's missing something."

"Missing something?" Kevin repeated. He spread his arms in that "what the hell are you even talking about" fashion. "It's a cardboard box with a bed in it. What could it possibly be missing? What do you want me to do, make it into a spaceship?"

I scratched my chin like I was thinking really hard about something. I really wasn't. All I said was, "That's not a bad idea."

Kevin scratched his chin too. Either, he really did that when he was thinking about something (and I was pretty sure he didn't) or he was mocking me. "It is a pretty good idea," he agreed. And with that, he hopped right out of the box quickly and flung his desk drawers open. He rummaged through them until he found a roll of duct tape and threw it over his shoulder, and it landed straight in the box. He also found a box of markers.

The first thing he did was work on the inside of the box. He brought his markers in with him, and whipped out a bunch of them, and just began to draw. On the front (I guess it was the front, that's where he put the pillow) he drew a steering wheel in black - a perfect steering wheel. He didn't even start in pencil or anything. It seriously looked like a legit steering wheel. Around it, with colored markers, like red and blue and green and stuff, he was drawing what looked like a control panel. with an emergency eject button, a warp drive button, a turbo button, an emergency sandwich button (my favorite), and other unlabeled buttons. He also drew round windows on the sides with stars and planets on the outside of them.

Then, he worked on the outside, where he drew the same round windows, and a long red stripe along the sides of the whole box.

I thought he was done. I was gonna tell him how awesome it was. But then he grabbed the duct tape that I forgot even existed, and began to cover the flaps on the sides. The ship's wings, I guessed. He was able to cover both wings really fast, with duct tape to spare.

He stood back from it, against his door. He scratched his chin. Maybe he really did do that when he thought about something. He swung his head around the room, looking for something, I guess. He went to the window on the opposite side of the room and grabbed the orange traffic cone from its spot. With the duct tape ring he had around his wrist, he stuck the cone to the front of the ship.

And it was complete.

At least, I thought it was. Kevin thought it was, too. At least I thought he thought it was.

"That's... a sexy spaceship," I said, kind of just standing in front of it all wide-eyed like an idiot.

"It is. What do you think we should call it?" Kevin asked.

"A sexy spaceship?" It was all I could come up with. Because it really was just a sexy spaceship.

"We shall invade," Kevin said dramatically, clenching a marker in one of his hands tightly. "We will become invaders."

"Invaders?" I said.

"Yes," Kevin replied. He clicked open his black marker and wrote on the side of the ship, right on top of the red stripe, '_A.S.S. INVADER.' "_A sexy spaceship invader," he whispered, running his fingers along what he just wrote. "Our goal... is to reign upon the likes of other races and ships, declare them as our own, and fight. Fight for what we believe is right." He stood up from his crouching position, dropped the marker, and held his hand out towards me. "Are you with me... Captain Clyde?"

I grabbed his hand. Our fingers interlocked tightly as I looked him seriously in the eyes. "We shall reign together... Captain Kevin," I said.

He turned to his record player. He pushed play, and another song began as we hopped aboard the A.S.S. Invader.


	13. Gelgamek

**A/N**: Well, I've had a shitty day. I'm not gonna get into detail, so let's move onto happier things...

I've more fanart! One is by Reichee and the other is by IAMCOWOMAN189, and the links are, of course, on my profile for all to see! And, not that I don't mind, for future reference, Clyde's eyes are bright blue in this story, not brown. XD I usually make them brown but zeromotion got me into making them bright blue because it makes Clyde seem cuter and more dim. It's a different blue from the way we usually imagine Kenny's or Stan's. And I don't mind at all if you've drawn a fanart where his eyes are brown - I've never mentioned his eye color! XD Zero just recently put up a batch of Stolovan doodles with his eye color. So go look at that, they're so cute. *_*

And this is a big chapter. Not much longer than some of the others, but it just... I... one of my favorites. PLEASE, if you haven't reviewed any past chapters, this is the time to do so, because I REALLY want your feedback on this chapter. XD I'm at 86 (I think...) now, let's see if we can get to 100! Come on, just 14 (15?) more!

Has anyone ever even used or mentioned the Gelgameks in fanfiction? I dunno, man, but I'm so thankful that SP has like, canon aliens. I mean, that's what the first episode is about. Psh.

ENJOY. ENJOY PLEASE.

* * *

**XIII. Gelgamek**

Kevin had loaded our ammunition with all the empty diet Pepsi cans he could find in the room, and that was a serious load of diet Pepsi cans. Each corner of our ship was lit with a light saber - one red, one blue, one green, and one purple - I didn't even know they came in purple. Kevin sat in the main captain's seat, and I sat behind him, in co-captain's chair.

"Securing all systems," Kevin said, flicking on and off switches in the control panel. "Engine check, Captain Clyde?"

"Engine is secure," I responded. "Ammunition check, Captain Kevin?"

"Locked and loaded." He fastened his seatbelt, and I fastened mine. He kept a tight grip on the steering wheel as I pulled a few levers and punched in a combination in the control panel, and we were almost ready for launch.

"Getting ready for take-off." Kevin stared straight ahead. "Sandwich check."

"Cold cuts are cold," I said. "Condiments are well-concealed and bread is baking. Ready for lunch."

"You mean ready for _launch_, Captain Clyde?"

"Yes, sir."

"Here we go. Five."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"_One!_" The final number was recited in unison, whatever that means, and we were taking off to the stars.

The ride was a bumpy one, but Kevin's a fantastic driver, actually. There were like a dozen-thousand (is that a number?) meteors coming right for us, but Kevin dodged them real slick-like, and our ship was still without a scratch the entire way. Our record player eased out, "_I've got to keep on chasing a dream, I've gotta be on my way, wish there was something I could say."_

Captain Kevin dodged a small meteor as the planet of the Gelgameks grew bigger as we got closer. "The Gelgameks are planning to take out the entire human race," he said seriously. "It's only a matter of time before they have to kill other races in order to get to us. The Martians have already planned their attacks. But they have a weak army. We need to take actions first in order to save our portion of the galaxy." Kevin parked the ship on the dark side of the planet's moon. Deep in a crater, we could keep ourselves incognito. "Get the ammo ready, as well as the light sabers," he ordered. He put on his space helmet as I did, and we both held armfuls of diet Pepsi cans. I put my light saber in the designated pouch, and held Kevin's for him. He was calculating the route to the Gelgameks' planet from its moon. "We should be able to get to the capital city near the battlefield if we hop on a space cab from here," he said. He showed me the handheld database. "We knock out the driver and drive there ourselves. We'll also knock out the toll booth collector when we get to the bridge. Are you getting me here?"

"Got it," I said.

"Alright." There was a lot of gravity on the Gelgameks' moon. Finding a place to hail a space cab was no problem. When the cab stopped, it only stopped because he probably needed to report us to the Gelgameks' police system for trespassing, but Kevin demanded, "Nozzles!" which meant I had to throw him his light saber. I threw it to him, and he sliced through that Gelgamek's life like he was cutting onions. Only Kevin didn't cry. He unlocked the passenger seat's door by slipping his arm through the gaping hole he ripped in the window. He pushed that ugly green bastard through the driver's door and watched him fall endlessly into a pit of bolivian (oblivion?). Kevin took his spot and I sat in the passenger's seat.

"Mission one accomplished," he said, holding his fist out for a knuckle touch. I pounded.

When we got to the toll booths, we didn't pay a cent - all we got was the collector's life. Kevin stabbed him with his light saber really easily. Like poking a fork in the turkey to see if it was ready. Only it wasn't Thanksgiving.

Well, killing a toll booth collector through the window with a glowing laser sword didn't quite help to keep down our notoriety. We were being chased by the Gelgamek police, and that shit was pedal-to-the-metal insane - they were shooting at us like crazy, but Kevin had to focus on not crashing into any other drivers that weren't involved in all this. So, I had to take all that we had of our ammo and use it on the police cars. They were incredibly explosive, and it took out about two cars with each can. With almost every car blown to bits behind us, we had ammo to spare.

Kevin's mad driving skills got us through the city alive - there were still cars chasing us, but I only needed to throw a can every few miles or so until we got to the battlefield.

The Gelgameks ceased their shooting as they surrounded us. We were left with nothing but our light sabers and the last can.

Kevin ripped off his helmet.

"Captain!" I cried. "Your helmet! How will you breathe?"

"It's alright," Kevin said ruggedly. "I can last an hour like this. If anyone's dying first, it's me."

"No!" I protested. I, too, yanked off my helmet. "We're going out together."

Kevin and I fist pounded, and the Gelgameks began to charge. They only had small weapons - flimsy guns and beating sticks, but there were hundreds of them. Kevin was great with a light saber. He knocked out dozens at a time, slicing their limbs off in a mere millisecond - he would admiringly watch the green slime of their blood ooze onto the ground. He would then do a back flip through the air and slice in half any Gelgamek that stood in his way.

I, however, was not as experienced with the use of a light saber. Although, I did manage to get a few chest shots in. Kevin killed many at a time, quick and slick. I know he had been practicing while the ship was auto-pilot, yet I would just sit in the co-captain's chair, toying with the emergency sandwich dispenser. Kevin was a true fighter.

There were but five Gelgameks left when it happened.

Two against five, we knew we could do it. But, the battle was nearly over, for one of the two men fighting for the human race was shot—shot in the stomach.

I fell to the ground. The pain was indescribable—only a few bruises and bullets grazed my arms, but this one was truly a bull's eye.

"_Clyde_!" Kevin cried, but there wasn't much I could hear from the slowness of it all, the ear-popping pain. Time slowed down, and Kevin's horrified face was close to mine as he held me in his arms.

"F—" I couldn't speak. I couldn't do anything. "F—F—"

"_Speak!_" Kevin cried again, shaking me.

"_Fight,"_ was all I could choke out.

"I _will_," Kevin whispered. "For you."

I couldn't say or hear anything over the sound of Kevin screaming, "_NOOOOOO!_" along with the sounds of Gelgamek ass being brutally kicked. I could feel Kevin's arms around my body as he lifted me off the ground. I could feel him pulling out the last Pepsi can bomb and throwing it behind him as he ran off with me in his arms.

* * *

I woke up in our spaceship. The first thing I saw was Kevin's face, breathing and sighing happily. "You're awake," he said. He pushed my hair out of my face. "How do you feel?" he asked.

I had to take in all my surroundings before I answered. The music in the record player had changed to something else - something softer, with a sound of age and friendship. That sounded really poetic, kind of, but it's the first thing that really came to my mind. ("_Bright light, almost blinding, black night still there shining, I can't stop, keep on climbing, looking for what I knew.")_

"I feel fine," I said. "Did we... did we beat them?"

"Yeah," he said. "The entire planet's been disintegrated."

"So... so, we saved the galaxy?" I said.

"Yeah. The Milky Way is ours..." he trailed off, kinda. "I, ah, fixed you up for you." He lifted up my shirt. "Look." I looked down at my stomach where I had been shot, and saw that there was a scar there, where it had all hurt before.

And a third time, Kevin saved my life.

Maybe it was the second and a half time. Or maybe he had only saved my life once, and twice more if you want to be technical. He saved my real life, my _Legend of Zelda_ life, and my asskicking space invader life. They were all lives, some way or another, and he saved them all.

I held my hand over my stomach. I closed my eyes again. (_"So any time somebody needs you, don't let them down, although it grieves you, someday you'll need someone like they do, looking for what you knew.") _

I could feel a second pair of lips join with my own. Last time I checked, I only had one pair of lips, then, I realized, _oh._

It's a kiss.


	14. Kryptonite

**A/N**: Oh, man, I... I don't know what to say. Almost 40... almost 40 reviews on the last chapter alone. Are you serious. ARE. YOU. SERIOUS? Nothing like that has _ever _happened to me before. And I mean, I'm amazed. With an obscure pairing like this? Hell, half of the people in the fandom probably don't (or didn't) know who Kevin even is. I'm amazed. I'm just speechless...

... Well, here you go. Second to last chapter. This story is rated M now. That should give you enough warning. The main objective from zeromotion for me to write this was for them to have sex. But I couldn't just up and make a lemon with Kevin and Clyde with no development. I mean, even though this is sort of a one night stand thing, I still kind of wanted it to mean something... and I hope it works. And I hope the fact that Kevin tops will work... Clyde was just too bottomy in this story. So there's that.

Another thing. Sorry if any of you... Chinese speakers (and I know you're out there) notice mistakes in the romanizations of Chinese. It's kind of from the mixture of a translator and my friend Raymond who does speak Chinese. And even if the Chinese is incorrect, I don't think Kevin would be ridiculously fluent anyway... he'd be a bit rusty. And I don't want to be a weeaboo or anything but, without hearing the words verbally pronounced, it does process as sounding like Japanese in my head. :| So read it however you like. And if you speak Chinese, don't maim me, okay?

Also, don't worry if you don't know the songs or anything. This fic's already full of music, but when the story's done, there'll be a link to a playlist on my profile. I don't expect a lot of you to listen to it, but I recommend that you do so you can just know what the hell they're hearing. And if you're anything like me, you get excited about music that goes with your fic and kind of helps bring it to life.

Next thing, I tried to incorporate as much canon into this as possible. Let's see if you can catch what I put in there. But I'm just gonna make this explicit and out there, about Clyde's colostomy. Yeah, that was in that episode... The Mystery of the Urinal Deuce, right? Yeah. Those things can be temporary, I've read. So he'd just have a scar.

And there's that. And then, next update... April 7th, it's set. I'm not caving in. That's the day the 200th episode of SP airs. I mean, it's kind of an epic day for, you know, the show that's the reason this whole thing even exists. So, like, leave your reviews. Beat the almost 40? I dunno if we can. But take a shot.

I'm gonna shut up now. Enjoy. Seriously.

* * *

XIV. **Kryptonite**

And I'm back in the cardboard box with him. I'm back in the same place I started, with the zebra-print sheets, and the control panel drawn on with marker, and the orange traffic cone cockpit, and the cartoon stars outside the window. And he was kissing me after the third time he'd technically saved my life. He didn't go very far. In fact, he wasn't even kissing me. His lips were just touching mine, saying a quick "hello, how are you, nice to meet you, maybe we should get to know each other." He's probably waiting for me to say no. But I was waiting for him to keep on going.

"Why aren't you...?" I said against him. I bet he couldn't even hear me.

"If you... want..." he spoke back against me.

"Only..." I whispered, but then I brought him closer to me, so we could kiss the right way. The way I wanted to.

He parts from me a little too much quicker than I would have liked, and he just sits in front of me, looking down at me, lying on my back. "I feel like you don't want this," he said.

"Well, of course I—" I started, but I didn't know how to end it. It was another confusing word thing - the word "want." What does that even mean, anyway? There's lots of cinnamon - no, synonyms for the word "want." Like... _desire_. That one sounds prettier, and it means almost the same thing, doesn't it? Kind of. And then "need" is way different. Like, that means you just can't _not_ have it. I mean, I didn't _need_ to be doing this with Kevin right now. Did I? What would happen if I didn't?

But what would happen if I did?

"I do," I said. Man, I wasn't getting married to the guy. Chill, Clyde. "I do want it."

The current song, it leaned towards the end as Kevin leaned down toward me, holding me by my neck - but he wasn't, like, choking me - it was more like he was securing me. (_"The greatest thing you can ever do, now, is trade a smile with someone who's blue, now...")_

"Stay still," he whispered. (_"It's very easy, it's very easy...") _

Secured in his hold, he kissed me. And it doesn't feel trippy or weird or even pedal-to-the-metal insane. It just feels right, if that makes any sense at all. How much more sense could that make? The word "right," is supposed to help things make more sense...

Right?

The only thing that was right here was that this made no sense to me. How I started walking into a comic store in search for a single comic and ended up in a cardboard spaceship, kissing Kevin Stoley made not a lot of sense to me, yet it was happening. And it was cool, yeah.

And that's really all I can describe it as.

Just cool. Or, if you want, I could use those other words that could make this work - like, he was kissing me deeply, with passion, and his lips were soft - because they were. His lips _were_ really, really soft, and he had this taste that was tasteless. Does that make sense? He didn't taste like anything, and I really liked that - I mean, someone could taste really, really bad, and sometimes it's weird when someone tastes super good, because then it seems like they prepared for a kiss in advance. And that's weird. Kevin's tasteless lips had to have been the best things I ever tasted.

He kept on kissing me, and I tried to kiss back, but he was really taking over. I didn't know if it was first time or not. Well, if it was his first time just kissing in general. Not that I had much to compare it to, but I thought he was really, _really_ good at it, too. I mean, he moved his lips like he knew what he was doing, and it was almost as if he didn't care what I had to do, it was all him. And that was okay with me. I let him take control. I let him keep my head in his hands and hold me close, like he was dedicated, like he would save my life or something from it, since he had a habit of doing that.

And we were both sweating a little bit - we were both burning, actually. He knew, I knew, because our sweat droplets were mixing with each other, sort of - so, trying to still stay as close to me as possible, Kevin took off his hoodie, and I took off my sweatshirt. We threw them overboard the ship and he continued to secure me down, to keep me against the stripes. He started to get real touchy-feely, because his hands started to lose control. Mine did, too, and I didn't want them to. I wanted to keep them down while Kevin did the work, because even though he gave off that vibe that it was his first time, he was really, really pretty good at this.

I pushed him away lightly, not in a sort of "get your filthy hands off of me" fashion, but more like a "hold on a second" fashion. I sat up a little bit. I looked at him, breathing hard like he does, kind of glowing at the sides from the colors of the light sabers. I started to ask, "Are you going to...?"

"If you want," he breathed.

My stomach got that feeling again. Maybe it was butterflies. But, that sounds gay.

"Well, _have_ you ever...?"

"No," Kevin said. "You?"

"No," I answered.

"Well, alright, then." And that was all he said. It was quick, simple. He moved his hands in this weird way. And I didn't speak sign language, and it probably wasn't even sign language, but I think it meant, "Well, I want to."

And I nodded, and I'm pretty sure that meant "yes" in any language.

And the record skipped a beat, along with my heart.

The record skipped to a song that started off slowly. A few guitar notes, and then a beat kicks in, even slower.

Kevin started off by taking off his shirt, and I could finally see those hips. It's no wonder he touches them so much. He threw his shirt overboard, too. He reached his hands out towards me, and I came closer, sitting up now. He cupped the back of my head and kissed me again, much like the first time, only everything about it has been multiplied by like, five. And I'm no good at math. His hands crawled down my back, inching for the bottom hem to take it off of me. He began to take it off slowly, yet still anxiously, but I whispered, "Wait."

"What is it?" he said.

"Can you... can you turn off the lights? Or close your eyes?" I asked. "I don't want you to see me."

Kevin's eyes gleamed, sort of, with this dark disappointment in me. His eyes were dark, but still seemed to be colored by all four of the light sabers. "No," he said. "I want to see you." He lightly pushed me down on my back again. He went to take off my shirt, but I held his wrist to stop him.

"Wait," I said, again. I could tell Kevin was all, "ugh, what is it now?" but I just wanted him to enjoy this the right way. "The scar," I said. And then he gave me that look that meant, "dude, that battle didn't really happen," so I had to keep on explaining. "I had surgery. I have a scar on my stomach." I did have a scar on my stomach, from my colostomy, from when I was really little. But it was only temporary - everything is, er, normal now. It was just the scar.

He looked at me like he was very unamused, and he really wanted to get on with it. He took off my shirt, anyway, and I didn't stop him. And he just looked at me. And I didn't want him to. (_"Working from seven to eleven every night...") _

"I'm just—" Uch, I don't even understand how he could really... even look at me. "I'm sorry." (_"It really makes life a drag...")_

"Don't apologize," he said, touching his fingertips to my chest. He trailed downward, tracing his fingers along the scar. "You're really... soft." He kept tracing downward until he got to my belt. (_"I've really been the best of fools... I did what I could.") _

The belt buckle.

The Superman belt buckle that I spent twenty dollars and fifty cents on - I guess it was worth every penny. Maybe. But it's funny. When Kevin loosened it, I realized how much he weakens me. I let him take over me, and he secures me down the way he wants to. He wanted to see me, so I let him. He weakened me, a lot like Kryptonite. Any Gelgamek-asskicking powers I might have had before, if any, are being drained.

And then he slowed down again.

With my belt half undone, he put his hand on my stomach again. He touched the scar, and leaned closer. His lips are hot on mine as he whispers, "You still have sauce around your mouth."

"Really?" I said, just a little louder. "Where?"

"Here, stupid." And he kissed me, and even the fact that he called me 'stupid' just totally washed away because that didn't even matter right now. He licked all around my mouth, and I was sure, at that point, that there never really was any sauce around my mouth in the first place. Kevin, I've learned, is a tricky bastard.

(_"But, baby, since I've been loving you, I'm about to lose my worried mind.") _

And his hand lowered back to where it was meant to be. Before he touched me, I knew he wanted to get everything off first. I helped kick off the jeans, and he threw them overboard along with the rest of the clothes floating in oblivion (I'm sure I got that right this time). And I was only left in my boxers, completely vulnerable to him, whatever that means. And getting even more vulnerable by the second as he slowly, _really damn slowly, _pulled down my boxers, and...

Yeah.

It was there, Kevin saw it with his own two (pretty, uch, am I allowed to say they're pretty?) eyes. And I guess he didn't really know what to do with it, and I wouldn't really know what to do with it either, and he did what I would do - he just grabbed it. And that was cool, you know. It felt really nice, because he started doing that pumping thing, and to avoid that awkward eye contact that's kind of like, "yes, I am, indeed, giving you a hand job," he went in for a kiss. Still pumping, kind of slowly, then fast, but it's easy to tell that he was going with the music.

I was already erect, goddammit. And he just stopped again.

"Why did you—" He cut me off with another kiss.

"_Wèishéme wo cónglái..." _he whispered against my ear, "_méiyou yìshí dào_..." and even softer, "_wo shì duōme ài ni_?"

I had no idea what he said, and I didn't even want to know. Everything sounds better in different language. Especially during something like this...

He kissed my ear. "_Ni shì wánměi de_."

He touched me again, and pumped slow.

"Don't stop," I said, and I was hoping that it didn't kill the mood just because I said it in English. (_"Lord, you know it ain't right, but since I've been loving you, I'm about to lose my worried mind.") _

Kevin, even without saying anything, promised he wouldn't stop unless I told him to. He lied his head in the crook of my neck, with his hair sticking to my face from all the moisture - I whispered to him to go faster, and he did. Even if he did make me weaker, I was his Kryptonite, too.

While he was still against me, I had to let my hands wander. I may not have been able to control them as much as I wanted to, but they went where they wanted to go. And I agreed with them. They found their way over to Kevin's own pants, and, well, I'd never really done any of this stuff before... not even with a _girl_... but I've seen some movies. I think I'm supposed to do this. But I don't think, "fuck me with your hot five-dollar footlong," is really going to get me anywhere. I thought Kevin would have appreciated it if I had asked nicely, maybe.

"Please?" I squeaked, tugging on his pants by a belt loop. I don't know what sort of facial expression I was, ah, expressing, but I think it was just short of puppy-dog eyes. Kevin smiled.

"Of course," he said. He began to undo his belt, which was just plain black without a superhero buckle, but just the sounds of the belt undoing, clinking and brushing against the denim, was inviting. But, I stopped him again, for two reasons. The first one being, I wanted to undress him myself. Even though I still wanted to stay on the polite side, I abruptly pushed his hands out of the way of his own button and zipper, and undid it as quickly as possible. When he was down to his boxers, I laughed - leave it to Kevin to have boxers covered in crossword puzzles.

"Crossword puzzles?" I said, giggling a bit. I turned my head a little bit to try to read the words. They were all hard and long ones, like pneumonic, Czechoslovakia, trigonometric, ptarmigan, subpoena, sacrilegious, rheumatic, posthumous, peignoir, and onomatopoeia...

Speaking of long and hard things, that's what Kevin's was. Well, maybe it wasn't so long. I don't really know what to consider long, but it _was_ hard. And since I was probably just about as clueless about what to do with it as Kevin probably was, I grabbed his, and I didn't squeeze too hard, nor too soft, and Kevin moaned right away.

I gripped his shoulder with my other available hand and brought him towards me, so our lips could crash again.

"_Ni shì wo de,_" he moaned into my mouth, and I just groaned back into him because that could have been in any language I wanted. I could have groaned in Italian.

He held my face with both of his hands. His right hand was a little sticky from my own cum, while at the same time, mine was getting sticky with his. With the white stuff getting on the sheets, maybe zebras were white with black stripes, after all.

And then he went for my neck. His tongue was warm, and probably even more wet after profusely swapping spit with me, whatever that means - either way, it still felt like I had died and gone to Heaven, only not really, because Kevin would have saved my life before that could even happen, anyway.

I must have tasted like diet Pepsi to him, because he was moaning loudly as he trailed up to my ear lobe, and licked that again, whispering something like, "_Ni shì wo de, ni bù wàngjì tā._" I would do anything to know what he was saying to me...

He sat up and started to pull me upwards. I had let go of him, and he was already reaching for the part of me that was normally used as an exit, but for Kevin, it was an entrance. I had to wonder why I had to be the girl here, but I didn't want to ask him. Maybe it's because I was weaker, but I knew I could get him to do what I want. Who was the weaker one? It was probably me, since I had to stop him one more time.

Kevin crooked his head to the right. His left, my right. "Hm?"

"Do you have a...?"

Kevin looked more sad than I'd ever seen him. Maybe it was sadness, probably shame, I don't know. The words on his boxers that were thrown to an opposite corner of the ship wouldn't help me figure out a word. He shook his head.

"Well... it's both our first times, isn't it?" he said.

"Well, yeah," I said.

"Then we shouldn't have anything to worry about."

"But what about...?"

Kevin spit on his hands.

Oh, okay.

He reached for the entrance/exit, and I kept my head leaning back. And then when he touched me with the tips of his fingers, I let out a little breath. I felt his hands jolt away for a second, and then he went back to it. He did it really carefully, and it wasn't hurting for only a few moments.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"You might as well," I said. "It's okay."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he said. "Continue?" I smiled a bit, because I was pretty sure I might have been the only one who could have noticed he was referring to continue screens on video games. He started to countdown. "Nine, eight, seven, six..."

"Start," I said.

The game wasn't over.

"Don't go too hard, though. Please. My butt's kinda... sensitive," I said. I did have quite a few experiences with my butt that weren't too great. I was trusting Kevin that this wouldn't be another one.

"I won't."

"Not too fast, either. I know how you get motion sickness," I said.

"I can't believe you remember that."

"Just go."

One finger, two fingers, three fingers, dick? Not exactly. He took it slow, like I asked him to. When he entered, it felt...

Well, I screamed.

He made me scream. A sort of scream I never screamed before. Different from a moan, but not exactly on the complete opposite end of that. Kevin was trying not to make such loud noises, but a lot of moans made their way through. With my legs in the air, he was able to rest his forehead against mine, and I could see him. I could see his unique, almost-almond shaped dark eyes. I kissed him, and he was even warmer than before. Sweating even more.

It hurt so much, but I didn't want him to stop. I told him so, "_don't stop,_" and he did as he was told. But he did stop, somewhere along the way. (_"Said I've been crying - my tears, they fell like rain, don't you hear - don't you hear them falling?")_

"Why did you stop?" I asked.

"Why are you crying?" he said.

It hurt. It just hurt. I threw my head back. "J-Just keep going... _agh..._" I hiccupped, and sniffed. "_Augh!"_

_"_Ssshhh," Kevin hushed, cupping my warm, teary face in his hand, "you're bleeding. I can pull out._ Qing bùyào kū, qīnài de." _His lips touched my neck.

(_"Don't you hear - don't you hear them falling?")_

And I felt him beginning to pull out, but I grabbed his shoulder. "_N-No_," I choked out. "Please... go... all the way."

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes!"_ I cried.

"Alright," Kevin confirmed, politely, and he began to penetrate again, without necessarily thrusting into me like he was fitting a square into a circle, or doing me like he hated me, and he wasn't fucking me, either. I wrapped my legs around his thin hips, hugging him closer, so he could get where he needed to be.

We were both moaning, but the noise was cut off when we locked lips. I don't know, but he might have been crying, too. I could be wrong. It might have been just sweat.

He breathed hard onto me, and we were both sure that he had reached—what's the word?—climax. He even thrust in more, just to get as far as he could get. My nails dug into his skinny back, and he held my fleshy shoulders. Our chests were against each other, and I was sure that he was sweating more than I was.

"_Tā mā de!" _he cried, angrily enough that I sort of guessed that it was a Chinese swear. "_Kè lái dé, zhiyào ni zhīdào..."_

He said my name. I know he did.

And without asking me, he began to pull out. Sort of fast, too. I screamed again, and he ceased pulling out for a second. He went back, slowly, but still painful.

"_Ngh_," I groaned, and let a last tear drip off my face.

("_I've been working from seven, seven, seven to eleven, every night. It kinda makes my life a drag, a drag, drag, it makes a drag, baby, since I've been loving you, I'm about to lose, I'm about to lose, lose my worried mind!")_


	15. Relationspaceship

**A/N**: IF I GO CRAZY, THEN WILL YOU STILL CALL ME SUPERMAN? IF I'M ALIVE, THEN WILL YOU BE THERE, HOLDING MY HAND--

Sorry. Those lyrics just had to go somewhere in here. Anyway, holy crap. We're here. Last chapter... of the story. Of part one, per se. Yeah, haha. Not. Over. Yet. The first thing I have to announce is that zeromotion is doing a doujinshi that continues the story after this chapter. Hell to the yeah, am I right? So this isn't really ending. It's just where I stopped writing for the time being. Although, I am very fond of how this ends, and I hope you will be, too.

I'm glad you all liked the last chapter... at least I hope you all did. I hope I didn't scare anyone away with the sex, because originally the whole sexual thing was supposed to be implied in the summary, but it didn't fit the way I wanted to, so maybe some of you were surprised? I guess.

This was so much longer in my head, because I had so much to say. But it's 4:20 AM (hehe) and I should be finishing my homework, so I'm a little blocked. But what I know that I've always wanted to say is that I want to thank you all SO FUCKING MUCH YOU DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND for reading this far and faving and alerting and reviewing. ESPECIALLY reviewing. This whole Stolovan Spectrum has been an insane ride for me, what with all the attention I was getting and random praise and ego fluffing. You guys have like, made my life, and I wish to all thank you personally. I feel like I'm kinda close to you all because, even if I have never spoken or replied to you, I always recognize your names and stuff and it's just great. I love it, I love it, I love it.

Also! The link to the official playlist for this fic is on my profile, public on YouTube. I'm glad so many of you like The Who, but there are a bunch of other songs that go unmentioned as to what they're called and who they're by, only because Clyde himself doesn't know. So, that playlist should help you know what they're hearing and what inspired me. And of course, with that comes the link to the continuation doujinshi on SmackJeeves.

So, even though this may seem like the end, it's not. And don't even get worried when zero's comic is finished - there's still the epilogue, in prose and told from the point of view of none other than Kevin Stoley himself. Come to think of it, the Stolovan Project still has a long way to go. I'm gonna be cheesy and say this isn't the end. It's really a beginning. This has already spawned plenty of Stolovan fanart, so perhaps more fics will come of it, too. I just want you to stay on the ride with me.

Anyway. I have to shut up and let you read this. Please enjoy, and thanks so much. For everything.

* * *

**A/N Still: **HAHA JUST KIDDING. YOU THOUGHT I'D LEAVE YOU HANGING WITHOUT GIVING YOU THE TRANSLATIONS FROM THE LAST CHAPTER? WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?

_"Wèishéme wo cónglái... méiyou yìshí dào... wo shì duōme ài ni?": _"Why did I never realize how much I actually love you?" (Something along the lines of that. :|)  
"_Ni shì wánměi de.": _"You are perfect."  
_"Ni shì wo de.": _"You are mine."  
_"Ni shì wo de, ni bù wàngjì tā.": _"You are mine and don't you forget it."  
"_Qing bùyào kū, qīnài de.":_ "Please don't cry, dear." (or darling... _'qinai de'_ is dear or darling or something, I guess.)  
"_Tā mā de!": _"Damn!" (I intended for him to say "fuck!" but it translated to "damn" so whatever.)  
_"Kè lái dé, zhiyào ni zhīdào.": _"Clyde, as long as you know..."

I was actually really embarrassed to post the translations because any of you who speak Chinese can point out what's totally wrong or what sounds weird. BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT. THE POINT IS THE EVERYTHING SOUNDS BETTER IN A DIFFERENT LANGUAGE. COOL? COOL.

Okay, I'm seriously, now. Enjoy, please, and I thank you, and I hope to see you 'til the end of the ride.

* * *

XV. **Relationspaceship**

I woke up next to him.

My eyes felt pasty. Wet, tired. I hardly slept. I only think I passed out for less than an hour. I tried to open them, but they barely budged.

The lights were out. At least the overhead light was - the light sabers were still glowing. I couldn't tell if the extra light was from the rising sun or even more light sabers that I didn't know about. I also heard something scratching. Something against a paper. I tried to budge my eyes open even more, and when I finally caught sight of something besides the glow of the light sabers, I saw Kevin's bare feet. I looked up, and saw him, kind of blurred. He was drawing.

He looked down at me. "Oh, you're awake," he said. He set his sketchbook aside, face down. He kissed me. What are we, married?

Oh. I remember now.

"Morning...?" I said.

"It's five in the morning," Kevin told me. "You should go back to sleep."

"What...?" I could barely speak. I probably should have gone back to sleep. "I-It's five... geh." I fell backward onto the pillow. My mind still dysfunctional, I bluntly asked, "Did we have sex last night?" Just in case, you know, we didn't. Which would have been even scarier, for me to be asking him that question if we didn't even have sex in the first place.

Kevin nodded. Oh, so, we did. I think he was worried I didn't remember. I mean, he had put boxers on me, and I could tell they were his because they were really, really tight. He was wearing a new pair of boxers, too. They had the _Legend of Zelda_ triforce on them. Mine had a bunch of planets and stars on them. Kevin seemed to own a lot of cool pairs of boxers.

"Oh," I was like. I yawned. I was trying to remember what happened, exactly, and why - and it wasn't that I had any alcohol. I wasn't hungover. Hell, I don't know what it feels like to be hungover. I generally didn't remember much when I woke up. That was my excuse for myself, at least. "That's why my butt hurts," I said.

"I'm sorry," said Kevin.

Did he really have anything to be sorry about? I mean, maybe I'd walk funny for a few days. But why did I even have sex with him in the first place? It was all coming back to me, the way if felt, the pleasure, and the pain, and the bits of blood. I could see it on the striped sheets. I didn't remember why.

There was the Gelgamek war. I remembered that. He healed my wound, and he sealed it with a kiss of victory. And that's how it came to this.

Why did _he _have sex with _me?_ Who would even want to? Kevin, with his straight, neat black hair and slender body, cute eyes, well-shaped face, having sex with me, slightly overweight, absent-minded, brown-as-crap-haired kid? I had no idea what was going on, and the thoughts infuriated me. Whatever that means.

I started to yell. "Were you just horny? Did you just use me to satisfy your fantasies? I thought sex was supposed to be, you know, special, with someone you truly love, not someone who you think is, like, just your little stupid action figure that you can just pose into any scene you want!" It all came out so quickly.

Kevin was seriously taken aback by this. He narrowed his eyes at me and said, "Don't you think I used you. I didn't use you. I really like you, Clyde, I really, really like you, and I don't want you to think that I think you're stupid or anything. You're not stupid. I really like you, and I thought that we could just call this an experiment of sorts. I know it sounds lame, and that excuse probably isn't going to work for you, but I can't explain myself. If you think the experiment was a failure, feel free to part ways with me. But I will continue to really, really like you, and if you don't feel the same way, fine. Experiment failed. Mission aborted. Game over."

I could feel my eyes start to burn. Damn you, Kevin Stoley. Damn you, and the way you talk, the way you play air guitar, and the way you kick Gelgamek ass, and the way you dance, and the way you drink diet Pepsi, and the way you know _Guitar Hero_ combos, and the way you look, and the way you draw, and the way you sing. Damn everything about you, Kevin Stoley. "...Goddammit," I choked.

Kevin tried to pull me in for a hug, or a kiss, or something, but I pushed him away. "Don't cry," he said. "Please don't. I don't like seeing you cry. _Qing bùyào kū, qīnài de._"

"I'm not - I'm not _crying_. I just, just... I just want to know where this... relation... spaceship... I just want to know where this relationspaceship is headed. Is it falling? Or is it headed to a galaxy far, far away, to the stars, or infinity and beyond?"

"It's on autopilot. It goes where it needs to go," he said. He kissed me, and I let him. "You should go back to sleep, _qīnài de_." He stroked my hair and I sunk down into the pillow. I wasn't ready to go back to sleep. I was too awake now, with too many thoughts going through my head. I couldn't even...

"But, Clyde," Kevin said. "I've been wondering something."

My eyes were already closed. "What?"

"What... _were_ you looking for in the comic store, anyway?"

I opened my eyes a bit. I could have told him I had been searching for the Superman belt buckle, but I seemed so surprised when I found it. He'd call bullshit easily. "I don't want to tell you."

"Tell me!" Kevin said.

"Noooo," I said, shutting my eyes again.

"Come on!" Kevin shook me jokingly. "Tell me what you were looking for, you must."

I opened my eyes. That tricky bastard is getting me again. I sat up. "Alright, Darth Vader."

"That's Yoda."

"I knew that," I said. Kevin rolled his eyes. "Promise me you won't laugh."

"I won't!" he assured, his hands in the air.

"Okay. Okay." I breathed out. "_Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy,_" I admitted. Please don't laugh, Kevin, please, please, _please_.

"_Taco-Man and Burrito-Boy?_" Kevin blinked. He laughed. Goddammit! "Dude!"

"I told you not to laugh!"

"But...!" Kevin covered his mouth. He was trying to keep it in, I know it. "I _love_ that comic!"

I could see it now. 'Do you, Clyde Donovan, take Kevin Stoley, as your lawfully wedded husband?' I smiled to myself. Then I hugged Kevin. "You do?!" I said happily. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?!"

"You never asked!" Kevin said, patting my back. "I have every issue, dude."

"You _do!?" _Holy shit, I love this guy. I really, really do. "Where are they?!"

"In my closet," said Kevin. I let go of him, and he left the spaceship. I peeked my head over the edge and watched Kevin open his closet. He had a really cute butt. He was bending over, and I could see inside his closet. There were absolutely no clothes in that closet. Only shelves and shelves and boxes of more boxes with comics. Comics, comics, _comics! Yes! _

He did that little, "_Ah-ha! Found it!" _thing that he does, and brought out this huge box of comics. They were all in their plastic covers. Mint condish, mmm. He dropped the box into the spaceship and it made a heavy noise. Kevin hopped on in, too, and began to hand me issues.

"You can keep, like, half of these, if you want," he said. "I've read most of them."

"Really?!" I cried excitedly. It was like, the happiest moment of my life. "Look at how many special editions you have—_oh, my god_."

He had the rarest... most prized... most _epic_... crossover issue of all time. Promo cover, mint condition - it looked as though it was never opened.

_The Adventures of Taco-Man and the Robo-Inferno. _

"I cannot _believe_ you have this!" I cried. I opened it, flipped through the pages, and holy shit, it was so... the art was _unf_, the colors were like _unf_... everything about it, I was like, about to have a heart attack from. It would be like, "Oh, Clyde died? How?" And then it would be all, "Oh, Kevin had _The Adventures of Taco-Man and the Robo-Inferno_, so he had a heart attack from its awesomeness." But then it'd be like, "Wait, never mind, Clyde's alive!" Because Kevin would have restarted my heart, anyway.

"Yeah, my dad got it from a con last year," said Kevin. "You can have it."

"You'd give it up to me _that_ easily?"

"Sure, totally," he said. "I'm cool with it."

I started to flip through it, while Kevin was looking through other issues. It was so epic. In the beginning, Taco-Man runs into Robo-Inferno by accident. And Robo-Inferno isn't so excited by this - Robo-Inferno respected Taco-Man at one point, but over time, he grew to dislike him. Taco-Man felt the same way. Then, the king of planet Discopolis, the planet where Robo-Inferno is from (it looks like a giant disco ball) told him that he needed to team up with Taco-Man in order to save their portion of the galaxy, so Robo-Inferno and Taco-Man end up spending more time with each other, learning each other's strengths and weaknesses. Taco-Man learns of Robo-Inferno's difficult childhood life. Being part-human and part-robot, he had been neglected by both races, and so he went to mope, basically, on the planet Lavasein, a red planet littered with active volcanoes. It was there that he developed his most powerful of powers: the ability to withstand temperatures hotter than the sun itself, and the power to shoot magma from his hands. The lava on the planet was radioactive - the planet's existence didn't last for long. After many years, the planet imploded and Robo-Inferno was blasted off to the planet Discopolis, where they accepted him for his red hot dance moves. Taco-Man learns that his asskicking dance moves and voice can drive away villains from sheer amazement, as well as his wit and intelligence, so he can work with gadgets. Robo-Inferno learns that even though Taco-Man can be little lazy and careless, after losing his self-esteem when he found out the food critic list was a fake, he can still save the day without even realizing it. This comes as an epiphany when Taco-Man tells him of the time that he saved the president of the United States when he happened to accidentally knock down a water tower over a burning building with his superhuman strength. So, when Robo-Inferno and Taco-Man embark on their journey of epic proportions, they easily win the war, however, Taco-Man has been shot in the stomach and Robo-Inferno brings him back to the ship, where he nurtures the wound and finds that Taco-Man isn't all that bad. They both fought for justice, and also fought for friendship.

Hey, wait a minute.

"Kevin," I said.

"What?" He looked up.

"This story is..." I started. Um. "It's... dude, just read it." Kevin took the comic from me and began to skim. "No, dude, seriously _read_ it," I said.

And he was reading. I just sat there, watching him read for a while - he skipped a few pages, but he finally got it. "Shit," he said.

"I know, right?" I said. "It's crazy."

Kevin smirked. "We're cooler, though," he said. "And Taco-Man and Robo-Inferno didn't have sex in the end."

"They should have." I crossed my arms and caught glimpse of the bloodstain on the sheets. I looked away. "It would have made much more sense."

"You think so?" he said. "Oh, and I'm not part-robot."

"How can I be so sure?" I said. I inched closer to him. We sat face-to-face, Indian style.

"Most of Robo-Inferno's face is made of steel," he said. "Mine isn't."

"Oh, really!" I exclaimed. I got even closer. "_Prove it_."

And then he kissed me. I held his face in my hands and it was soft - most definitely not made of steel. I think I believed him then. I separated from him, and said, "And I don't have meat vision."

"How can I be so sure?" He smiled, showing off those super nice teeth of his. "Look me in the eyes and don't turn me into a hot dog." I nodded in agreement. We stayed face to face, but did no kissing, only eye contact. He didn't blink. I didn't blink. And a little part of me thought that maybe, just maybe, if I thought about it hard enough, I could turn Kevin into a hot dog. But then I wouldn't like that because I would be very compelled to eat him and then that would be the end of Kevin Stoley. I didn't really want that. I shut my eyes.

"Ha! I win!" Kevin raised his arms in victory.

"You didn't even say it was a staring contest!"

"But you _knew_ it was," he said. "We totally were having a staring contest just there, and you lost, so ha. Hahaha."

"I can't have staring contests at five in the morning!"

"No excuses! You lost!" He poked my tummy jokingly, and I giggled. God, I swear, I'm not ticklish, okay? Don't tell Kevin.

"Psh." I crossed my arms across my chest. Still kind of shirtless, I hoped I didn't look too retarded. "Well, just to make sure we're not keeping any other secrets, you have to prove to me that you can't withstand temperatures higher than the sun." I got on my hands and knees. "You couldn't withstand it if I happened to cover you in hot sauce. Really_, really_ hot sauce... would you?"

"We could test that theory," said Kevin. "But!" He lifted one finger, matter-of-factly, like he was about to explain something. Or introduce an idea. That's what Kevin does. "There is one thing that I have that Robo-Inferno does not have."

"And what is that?"

"Oh, you don't know?" Kevin raised his eyebrows in what seemed to be actual confusion. Which was weird, but I was practically obligated to play along - not that I didn't want to. "What I have, and he doesn't? Goodness, Clyde, it's easy."

"It is?" I said.

"Yes!" Kevin lifted his finger again, but this time, it was the other one. "A heart, of course." He grabbed my head in both his hands and forced my ear against his chest. "Listen," he said. And I could hear it beat. _Bah-bum. Bah-bum. Bah-bum_. That's an onomatopoeia. I learned that from Kevin's boxers. _Bah-bum_. _Bah-bum_. "Not titanium, not iron, not artificial. It's an authentic heart. Mint condition, too." He kept my head against his chest, and I kept my eyes shut. I could hear it beat, louder than anything that could have possibly been making noise in the room. The volume on the record player was low, I could barely make out the song - and Kevin's voice was growing farther away. _Bah-bum. Bah-bum._

* * *

I woke up next to him again. I didn't normally have problems with sleeping. As far as I knew, it was the same day. Or night. I didn't know what time it was. And I didn't really care. It was probably the whole sleeping-in-a-cardboard-box thing that was giving me trouble with sleep. Or maybe it was the music from the record player that woke me up. I don't know at which point when I was asleep that Kevin turned up the volume or changed the record. He can probably do it in his sleep.

He was next to me, and he was out like a light. All the light sabers were off. The sun was still not totally up yet, but there was some rays peeking through the window. It definitely felt like a morning.

I looked at him, cuddled up against the striped pillow. His eyelashes were long, and his hair, for once, was disheveled, whatever that means. His right hand clutched the pillow case, and his other hand was lying on his sketchbook.

The music from the record player oozed out something kinda slow, like it always did. A lot of people say that a vinyl record player has better sound quality than any boombox or MP3 player or CD player - but a lot of other people say it was just because the music itself is better.

(_"See me. Feel me.") _

I eyed the sketchbook under Kevin's hand. It was small, sort of travel-sized, I guess. I didn't want to wake him, so I carefully, _really damn carefully_ tried to pull the book from him. I got it pretty easily, and Kevin didn't move. I turned on a green light saber, so I could see what was inside. I really shouldn't have been snooping through Kevin's stuff, but I figured I had done enough of that for a while, so I didn't quite see what could have been so bad in just flipping through a little pad.

(_"Touch me. Heal me.")_

There were lots of unfinished sketches of just characters - faces, eyes, muscles. I think he really knew what he was doing. Some of them were cleaned up, but not really all of them. One of them, that seemed to be more complete than the rest of them, looked really... I don't... know. The page after it was blank, and the pencil wasn't really very smudged. It was new. It was a super clear picture, really super and well-drawn, because, well, I could tell it was me. Sleeping.

(_"See me. Feel me.")_

I put down the book. I smiled at the picture - it made me look a lot better looking than I probably actually was. It made me seem almost beautiful. I liked that, how Kevin's art could be prettier than the actual reality.

Then, I turned the light saber off. I looked at Kevin. Still fast asleep, looking more beautiful in reality than he ever could in an artist's depiction... if only I even knew what that meant. "It's a really great drawing," I said to him. "I would have, you know, liked to see it from you, yourself... I shouldn't have been snooping, anyway." I stopped. He didn't move. "And I kinda, ah, wanted to say thank you. You know. Thank you... for you. You... you look really nice, kind of. Sleeping like that." I stopped again. Uch, it was hard, talking to someone who wasn't conscious. "If I could draw you, I would," I said.

(_"Touch me. Heal me.")_

"And even though it kind of hurt..." I went on, "I still liked it. Because, well... no one else has really wanted to do that with me before. It was kind of nice... you know. And it, it, well, it wasn't just because _you_ wanted... me. I just... I did realize before, you know... how... you _looked, _and..." I trailed off. It was seriously hard, without him looking me in the eyes, and I was kind of just admiring his eyelashes. "That's not the point. It's not about how you looked, right? Because... I have never met a guy... or a _girl_... or a, a _person_... you know, really, kind of like you... so... yeah."

(_"See me. Feel me.")_

"I really... like, lov—" Wait, no. "I really... lo—" That wasn't right. "I lo—" What was the word? I was completely forgetting it. "....the way you talk, the way you play air guitar, and the way you kick Gelgamek ass, and the way you dance, and the way you drink diet Pepsi, and the way you know _Guitar Hero_ combos, and the way you look, and the way you draw, and the way you sing... it's like... I don't know."

("_Touch me. Heal me.")_

"Maybe... maybe it's early. Maybe. It's like... you know... hello. How are you." My voice began to crack, and get quieter. I leaned on one arm and lied almost face-to-face with him. "Nice to meet you. Maybe we should get to know each other..." I touched his hair. It was soft. Why was everything about him so soft? Damn you, Kevin Stoley. And damn everything about you. "I also... also wish that... I could know what you were saying to me earlier... in Chinese... you know?" I lied on my back all the way. I turned my head to try and look at him. It was still dark. But the sun was rising. "And I think that... maybe..." Don't cry, Clyde. "I should do that thing. I don't know what the word is. It's a really easy word." I almost-laughed. "It completely phases me right now. But you know what I mean... right?" Pause. "I'm sure you know what I mean. You get me, right? Like, maybe, you know, I should love you..." Pause. "That's the word, isn't it? I... I hope it doesn't sound any less romantic in, you know, English... I'm not really good at this sort of thing." The sunlight through the window grew brighter, very gradually. "And I'm sure you know that. I'm sure you're okay with that. And I think I should love you, but... how I feel about you right now, it's just... there aren't... any words." And I stopped.

"Clyde," he said. "I can hear every word you're saying."

My eyes were already closed. "I knew that."

* * *

_Listening to you, I get the music  
Gazing at you, I get the heat  
Following you, I climb the mountain  
I get excitement at your feet  
Right behind you, I see the millions  
On you, I see the glory  
From you, I get opinions  
From you, I get the story.  
_--**See Me, Feel Me** by **The Who**


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